#the weird thing about the anime is you get to see his hair from the back

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 10

Source for pic

Trouble 10

Word Count: 4546

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I feel like this story just keeps going from bad to worse! But bear with me, please! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. Chapter 11 will be NSFW and will end with a cliffhanger, just a heads up!

Masterlist

Just in case people missed this, I can't stop raving about @laidenbreecatchall art for Zoro! Just look at him! *sigh* Okay, back to the story:

This can't be happening. It can't. It's all a bad dream, and you're bound to wake up soon, drenched in sweat and tears. It has to be a nightmare. 

Because the alternative is too terrifying. 

“Tremble for me, Kitten.” He purrs against your ear, his breath sickeningly hot, as the fingers he has wrapped around your neck squeeze with a gentleness you wouldn't associate with a psychopath. “I get so turned on by seeing you scared.”

Gross. Sick. Disturbing. 

Why does nobody come to your aid? The club is packed, doesn't anybody sense your distress? You try to move your head around in the vain hope of making eye contact with someone - anyone - but he just squeezes tighter. His chuckle is low, and somehow, you still hear it perfectly, even with the loud music thumping away in an infernal rhythm. 

“Nobody is coming to help you, Princess. To everybody else, we look like a couple.” The hand that's gripping your wrist, holding it tight against your waist, pushes further, and you feel him pressed against your back. “To everybody else, you look like you're mine.” 

He moves his lips, placing wet kisses along your neck as you sob softly. There's barely enough strength in you for more than that. You're terrified. Fight or flight instinct? How about frozen in fear? And what does he plan to do to you? Kidnap you? Abuse you? Kill you? 

You try to turn your head to the side to get a glimpse of who he is because you can't shake the feeling that you've heard this voice before. You know this man. But the movement only makes him squeeze your neck tighter, and the only thing you glimpse is a black beanie. 

“Not yet, Princess. You're not ready to see me yet.” He tuts softly and inhales your hair with a lewd groan. “Now… you know why I'm here, right? You misbehaved. You let the cop stay the night; you let the cop touch you; you let the cop kiss you.” He growls as he delivers the sentences, and his hand grips your wrist tighter. You're starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers as he seems to be cutting off your circulation. “I don't want to do this, Kitten, but I need to punish you. You need to learn.”

He sounds upset. Almost as if he's actually sorry he has to do this to you. 

“But first…” He removes his hand from your neck, but it's as though a phantom limb is still pressed against your throat. The power and terror he exerts over you are unthinkable and terrifying. Then, you feel a weight in your pocket, and he sighs against your ear. “Here's your phone back, Princess. I got it from our kitchen drawer.” Our? “You can't shut me out. You won't change your phone again. Got it?”

You stay still, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Your heart is thumping in such an insane rhythm that you wonder how you're not having a heart attack right now. 

“Do you understand?” His free hand climbs your nape and grips your hair. When he pulls, you gasp and nod stiffly. “Good girl.” Another purr makes your ear vibrate, and you tremble from the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His feverish touch travels from your nape to your neck, then to your clavicle, his nimble fingers gathering the fabric of your clothes as he exposes the flesh of your shoulder. Another involuntary shudder makes you tremble as you plead silently for one of your friends to come find you. 

“You will do as I say and stop indulging the cop. Sever the connection, Kitten, or I will. And you won't like it.” His lips hover over your shoulder, and the hand on your wrist keeps squeezing. The bite of the bracelet is harsh and unforgiving, making your blood run cold. 

“It would be the simplest thing. He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot…” The stalker's chuckle sounds unhinged. “Boo-hoo. Another cop killed in the line of duty. No one would blink an eye.” Your lower lip trembles, and your heart constricts. He’s capable of hurting Zoro. And if Zoro dies, it's your fault. “But you'd know why he died. Do you want that, Kitten?”

“D–don't hurt him.” You whisper, and it's unlikely he heard you over all the loud noise of the club. Even so, for you, it seems as if the music is coming from a faraway place. 

“That is entirely up to you.” He sighs, and you close your eyes. “Your punishment, Princess.” Then, his massive gloved hand covers your mouth as he sinks his teeth deep into your shoulder. You feel a sharp sting of pain traveling down your arm and back. Tears sting your eyes and your sobs drown in a muffled whine against his hand. The pain is blinding and hot, and you're pretty sure he's drawing blood. 

A stark realisation hits you just as he removes his teeth from your flesh, his tongue collecting droplets of blood as he eases the sting. 

He's marking you. 

“Mine.” He growls, and a tear rolls down your cheek. 

You feel helpless, violated, and terrified. 

“You won't disobey me anymore, Kitten. You won't misbehave anymore, and more importantly, you'll get rid of the cop.” His hand leaves your mouth as he fixes your clothes to cover up the bite mark. “Or I will. Don't forget it.”

His other hand releases your wrist, and you let out a ragged breath as your fingers twitch from lack of circulation. 

He's still pressing against you. 

“You're almost ready. We'll be so happy together, Kitten.” Your head slumps forward when he presses his lips against the back of it in a mockery of affection. “Don't disappoint me anymore.”

Then, just as swiftly as he approached you, he leaves. You turn quickly on the spot, trying to get a glimpse of your tormentor, but you only seem to catch a sliver of white. 

Was it hair? Clothes? The reflection of the lights? 

Or just your tears playing tricks on your mind? 

With trembling fingers and uneven breaths, you dislodge the bracelet that seemed to mould into your skin. The redness is daunting - it will bruise. Another whimper makes your lower lip tremble as you try to keep your wits about you. 

You need to calm down. You need to act like nothing happened. 

Zoro will be here any second now, and the stalker's threats were very clear. He'll hurt Zoro. He'll get rid of him if you don't push him away - whatever that might mean, so your plan to tell Zoro everything just went out the window. 

You need to keep him safe. At all costs. 

“Miss, your drinks are ready.”

A gasp leaves your lips, and you nod at the bartender. You’re still massaging your wrist, trying to alleviate some of the redness, but it's not disappearing. It's just getting worse. 

The way your heart is beating out of sync is a testament to how scared you still are. You need to compose yourself. New plan: take the drinks to the table and immediately excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Then maybe you can leave, claiming to be sick. You can't disguise the bruising on your wrist, though. Thank heavens the bite on your shoulder is hidden. 

With a steadying nod, you pick up the tray of beverages and make your way to the booth. 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

It's simple. You can do it. And then you can work out a plan. Maybe you can make an anonymous tip to the police about your stalker. Would that work? Or beg Ichiji again for protection? Even if you have to grovel? Maybe ask your father where he stores his rifle and take matters into your own hands?

You try to ignore the fact that just the stalker’s presence left you frozen in fear. It's highly unlikely you can fight for yourself. Who are you trying to kid? 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

You repeat the words like a mantra, but as soon as you set the tray on the table, you feel a touch on your waist, making you immediately flinch and hide your arm behind your back. 

“Hey, Troublemaker.”

“Zoro!” The moment your eyes fall on his, all your resolve crumbles. He can help you, you know he can. 

“Get rid of the cop… Or I will.”

“He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot.”

No. You can't tell him anything. 

Not yet, at least. Not before you have a foolproof plan to protect him. Can his captain help? Surely he can. You just need time to think this through. You need to shake away the fear and think with a cool head. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro's eye scans your face. It's most likely still red. Your eyes still feel watery, and you're sure he's picking up on those signs. Zoro's hand still lingers on your waist, so you shuffle away from him and force a smile, your arm tucked behind your back. 

“Yes, Zoro. I'm fine. Did everything work out with the bomb threat?” You step away from him and distribute the drinks with just one hand, your jaw clenching with the fakest smile you've ever produced. 

“Not really, it was a freaking mess.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Most of the time, these things are fake. Someone wants attention and pulls one of these, thinking it's funny. This time, it was a real threat.”

A small gasp leaves your lips as you lock eyes with Zoro again. A real bomb? But… Does that mean it wasn't the stalker who planted it? Or does it mean it was him, and he's just showing you again how seriously he can play? 

How easily can he hurt Zoro?

“Another cop killed in the line of duty.”

“Shit.” You exclaim, and Zoro nods while reaching for a beer from the tray. After a sip, his expression softens, and he reaches for your waist again. 

“Come here. We can talk later - we need to talk later - but for now… just come here.” 

Your heart thumps louder than the music, and you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. He's still watching. 

“It would be the simplest thing…”

You take a step back to avoid Zoro's touch, your smile faltering as you try your hardest to keep a neutral expression. 

“Trouble?” Zoro reaches again, and it's like your chest is exploding as you avoid his touch once more. “You're running again.”

The faintest flicker of pain darkens Zoro's gaze, and you bite your lower lip just to keep it from trembling. 

“I'm not… I… I have to go to the bathroom.” And before he says something else, you rush towards the dimly lit corridor that leads to the bathrooms, but before you can take refuge inside, you hear Zoro call your name. 

He’s following you. 

You pretend that you don't hear him and press on, hastening your step. 

“Wait!” He calls you again, and you raise your hand to push the door open, unshed tears are already pricking the back of your eyes. Would it be simpler to just tell him everything and hope for the best? 

“You'd know why he died.”

You can't tell him. 

“Trouble, stop!” Zoro nearly growls, his hand wrapping around your injured wrist in an effort to stop you. Instant pain shoots up your arm as you let out a hiss and a grunt. Stopping and turning towards him with a pained expression on your face, you almost let out a sob. 

Zoro releases you instantly, his hands shooting up in a defeated position while his brows scrunch, searching your face for any clue as to why you reacted like this. 

“I barely touched you.” Then it happens fast, and you don't have time to react. 

Zoro's eye lowers as his gaze settles on your bruised wrist. You see it widen, his pupil dilating as realisation washes over him. 

“What the fuck?” The music seems farther away in the bathroom corridor, yet it still vibrates low, making your chest thump in the same rhythm as the electronic tempo, but the buzzing in your ears doesn't come from the loud noise. 

You've been caught. 

“Who the fuck did this to you?” Zoro takes a menacing step forward, and you can physically feel the way the air shifts. You have no time to react when he grabs your arm again - avoiding the bruised area - and inspects it, revulsion and fury contorting his expression. “Tell me, Trouble. Now.” Zoro's tone brooks no arguments. He sounds deadly serious. No. He just sounds deadly. 

“I–” You take a deep exhale and try to release your arm from Zoro's grasp, but it doesn't budge. His eye jumps from your face to your arm like he can't stand the sight of the bruise, but can't stand to look away either. “It's nothing, Zo!” You force a laugh, and it sounds fake and high-pitched. “I bumped into someone earlier and almost fell. The guy grabbed my wrist to keep me from falling, and the bracelet dug into my skin.” Another fake laugh. “You know how clumsy I am.”

That was believable. You think. 

Zoro's jaw clenches and unclenches, and he snaps his neck, rotating his head as he also takes a deep exhale, a gesture meant to calm himself down. 

“Lie to me one more time, Trouble…” 

“I'm not–”

“You are! That's not an accidental bruise! Stop trying to fucking gaslight me. What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck do I have to kill?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“You're being dramatic, Zoro, it really is nothing, I–” 

“You stop showing up, you look like a ghost, you don't eat, you're scared, jumpy, you run from me and avoid my touch. Yet yesterday, you clung to me as if I was your lifeline.” Zoro takes another step forward, and now he's almost flush with you. 

Safety. He's safety. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“And now this? Let me in. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

You can't. 

“Zo…”

“There you guys are! Come on! We're going to sing happy birthday to Nami before Luffy raids the fridge and eats the cake by himself.” Usopp says, without really realising he’s intruded on a private conversation, but you couldn't be more thankful to him. 

You take the opportunity while Zoro's distracted to actually run away from him, confirming his earlier affirmation that you're running and not caring one bit. 

He can hate you all he wants. He can even be hurt with you. 

You just can't bear it if he actually ends up hurt. 

Or worse. 

Dead. 

-*-

The thumping music stopped just for Nami. The DJ got the birthday melody playing, and the whole club is celebrating your friend's birthday, even the ones that don't know her. 

You can't stop a small smile from spreading on your lips: everybody loves Nami. 

You somehow managed to lose Zoro amongst the hordes of people - he's big and bulky, so that gives him more trouble to manoeuvre around the crowd - and as soon as Nami blows out the candles, just after she and Vivi share a sweet kiss, you hug her and make up a quick excuse to leave the party early. 

Then you flee the club without another thought. Not even caring if you don't have a ride home or if you didn't say goodbye to your friends. 

You just need to get away from Zoro and his questioning. 

The slight night chill and the difference in temperature make you shiver, though another buzz from your phone assures you the tremble comes from something other than the cold. 

Yet, before you take two steps, his voice makes you stop. 

“Stop running from us.” It’s Zoro. “Stop running from me.” He sounds exasperated and conflicted. 

Your shoulders slump forward as you inhale deeply. He's relentless, and he will get to the bottom of this if he keeps pushing. And you can't allow that. 

Even if it will destroy you. 

“Tell me what's wrong, Trouble.” You turn to face him, and your knees wobble. Zoro's eye is full of anguish. He runs a hand through his hair and paces forward - everything in his posture is desperate. “I don't know what else to do to help you. I've tried being tough, I've tried giving you space, I'm trying to be understanding… Trouble… meet me in the middle. Please.”

You can't do this. You can't. He looks so broken, so helpless. And this could be easily remedied if you just told him what's going on. 

But you can't. Because you know the Stalker will kill Zoro. And you can't bear that. You'd rather be scared and trapped for the rest of your life than risk Zoro's. 

Zoro sees you struggling and takes full advantage of it, trying to sway you by cupping your face as he forces you to look at him. 

“Let me in.” He pleads with a whisper. 

Closing your eyes, you open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your voice was stolen. The lump in your throat grows, and so does the pain in your chest. 

There's no other way. 

“You got it all wrong, Zoro.” Your voice sounds foreign and affected. Still, you now focus your gaze on Zoro's scar. Not his eye, you can't bear that. “I'm not interested. I never was.”

Zoro's hands twitch slightly as his brow furrows, but you barely give him time to process your words before you deliver more pain. 

“You just can't take a hint, can you? I'm trying to get away from you, but you keep pushing. I don't care for you like that, Zoro.”

You have to close your eyes to keep away the moisture and to prevent acknowledging Zoro's pain.

“Gosh, stop being clingy and needy. Leave me alone. That's all. I'm fine, I just need you to give me space.”

Zoro's hands part with your face torturously slow. You don't look him in the eye anymore, clenching your fists to prevent them from shivering violently. 

But you stand your ground. 

You need to push Zoro away. He needs to be safe. Even if your heart is shattering. 

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

He stopped touching you, but he didn't back away. And as your eyes raise to meet his, you can see steely determination where before was only despair. 

“You heard me: Bull. Shit.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

Fuck. 

“I'm dead serious, Zoro. This was fun and all, but I'm done. Leave me alone.”

You turn on your heel, trapping a sob behind clenched teeth and fighting back tears. 

“Is this how you want to play? I can see what you're trying to do, Trouble, and it's bullshit.”

Bzzzz. 

You shouldn't read it. 

Yet you do. 

Unknown: Try harder, Kitten, or I'll make him go away permanently. 

“I’m not playing at anything. You don't matter.” The words leave your lips in the form of a whisper, but they linger in the air as if they were poisonous gas. Your insides twist and turn, and you feel nauseous. 

“Say that again, Trouble.” You barely hear him, not only because of all the ringing in your ears, but also because his hurt is drowning the words. 

Bzzzz.

No, no, no. You can't. 

Bzzzz. 

You have to. 

“I said–”

“Turn around and say it to my face.”

A sob claws its way up your throat, and you swallow it back down. You need to keep it together for now. 

With a slow turn, you face Zoro's disbelief, willing your heart to slow down, trying to keep your own emotions at bay before you collapse in tears. 

“You don't matter.” You repeat the words, and the way Zoro's face turns from disbelief to pain is immediate and heartbreaking. “I was just having fun, but I didn't expect you to become so obsessed with me.”

You aimed to hurt, and it worked. 

Zoro takes a step back as his eye faces the ground. The way his chest rises up and down with heavy gasps almost brings out the tears you're trying so hard to suppress. 

“Goodbye.”

You turn and hasten your step, wanting to get away from him as fast as you can. 

“Fine.” Your steps waver for a second when you hear Zoro’s voice, before you return to your uneven stride. “Fine! I'll back off. But I know you're lying to me.”

He doesn't say anything else, and you don't want to acknowledge the pain you heard in his voice. The pain you caused. Because your own pain is unbearable and immense. 

And now you've pushed away the one person who would help and protect you unconditionally. 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: That's my good girl. The punishment worked. You're almost ready. 

-*-

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Zoro grits his teeth as his eye follows your shrinking form, watching it disappear into the dark horizon. Every freaking instinct tells him to follow you, but you've just pushed him away with everything you've got. 

‘You don't matter.’

“Fuck!”

“Hey! What's going on?” Usopp places his hand on Zoro's shoulder, and he sighs, running a desperate hand through his hair. 

“Nothing.” Then Zoro spots Kaya buttoning her jacket. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, I'm taking Kaya home, we have an early day tomorrow.” Usopp looks around and spots your disappearing form. “Where's she going?”

“What did you do?” Kaya interjects, hands already placed on her hips with a menacing scowl to back up her tiny, aggressive stance. Usopp’s brow raises at his girlfriend, and then he mimics her stance, his gaze also demanding answers Zoro doesn't really want to give. Zoro grits his teeth again, trapping a growl against them. He's so pissed, he can't even think straight. 

“I didn't do anything!” He answers, exasperated. “Fuck! Usopp, can you give her a ride home? She just fucking left.”

Usopp nods, and Kaya jogs a little, trying to catch up with you before you gain more distance from them. So Zoro starts walking towards the club again before you come back, wanting to avoid another confrontation. 

“Thanks.” He pats Usopp’s back and goes inside to say goodbye to his friends and grab his stuff. 

This shit’s not over. You may think you've pushed him away with your performance, but all you did was reel him in more. Zoro had his suspicions, but now he's sure. 

Someone is messing with you. And though his brain is telling him that someone is connected to Lucci and the store clerk, his heart is trying to push that possibility away. Because that fucker is dangerous, and Zoro's hoping against all hope that he didn't set his eyes on you. 

Or Zoro’s going to have to murder someone. 

Zoro's jaw keeps clenching as he drives towards the station. Even though he has the night off, he can't stay still. He's going to present his suspicions to Captain Mihawk and then forge a plan to protect you. Even if he has to drag your ass to the station and lock you in a cell. 

He'll fucking do it. 

Anything to keep you safe. 

You're not going to spend another fucking day terrified of something you won't even tell him about. 

‘You don't matter.”

Like shit, he doesn't. You can lie to him all you want. 

He'll never give up on you. 

-*-

It's barely after midnight when Usopp and Kaya drop you off at home. They have to get up early in the morning, so they couldn't party  late, and you told them you weren’t feeling very well. 

Neither of them pressed because they could clearly see the tears you were trying so hard to fight back. And you're sure they both know that you're crying because of Zoro, seeing as it was him who told them to give you a ride. 

They just don't know that you were the asshole who brought the pain to both of you. 

As Usopp’s car disappears down the driveway, you bolt the lock on the front door and place a chair against the doorknob, knowing deep down that it won't keep the stalker away, but still aiming for a sense of safety you know you won't achieve. 

You do the same to your room, discard your club clothes, and finally look in the mirror to see the mark he left there. Your eyes widen as your trembling fingers run over the bruise: you can clearly identify the teeth marks, there's still caked blood around the wound and it's already turning a dark bruise colour.

You choke back sobs as you disinfect the wound and dress in your pyjamas. Outside, the weather seems to match your mood as you start to hear the gentle pitter-patter of the soft rain against the window. 

You feel drained and exhausted. You were, once again, pushed into a corner. Never have you felt so trapped, helpless, and lonely. All the earlier fight, the will to try and find ways to get out of this predicament, left your body along with the hurtful words you delivered to Zoro.

‘You don’t matter.’

Gosh… he’s everything! But if it takes breaking you both apart just to save him, then you’ll do it over and over again.

Tomorrow is another day, and maybe after some serious consideration, you’ll know what to do.

As you curl up in your bed, trying to stay awake, but already knowing you'll succumb to exhaustion after having cried your heart out, you glance at your buzzing phone before closing your eyes. 

Unknown: Such a good Kitten. My beautiful Princess. My love. Sleep. I'll watch over you. 

-*-

You wake up with a jolt, feeling that something is amiss. You look around, your eyes darting to every shadow and every corner because your room feels wrong. Yet, you find everything in the same place. The shadows are still, and the room is quiet. 

Your heart thrums against your chest, and you take a deep breath to try and calm down. It must've been a nightmare. 

Patting your nightstand, you grab your phone. 01:15. It's still so early. Why did you wake up so suddenly?

And then you notice it. At first, it's just a red blur standing in your nightstand, but then, as you focus your wet eyes, they widen in fear, and you clasp your hand over your mouth. 

There's a single red rose in the nightstand. He's been in your room. 

He was near you. 

A sob disturbs the quietness of the night, and almost immediately, it gets drowned out by a loud thunderclap. And then, you see something else. 

Trembling fingers reach out, and you grab the small paper: it's a photo. And when your eyes adjust to the image and your brain processes it, you stay frozen in place, your breath held in suspension as more tears flood your eyes. 

It’s a polaroid of you sleeping. Your brows are furrowed, and your cheek is wet, but what steals your breath is the huge, veiny, tanned hand that's gripping your hair in possession. The word ‘mine’ is scribbled in red across the picture in a distinct claim. 

He was in your house. 

He was in your room. 

He touched you. 

And you didn't even notice.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall

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[s0lar-ch3ri]

okay hi waves im making a vers on here so the chat can read it (theres mentions of being sick ofc, animal death [its quick and about rats], and brief descriptions of kissing) I FINISHED IT LATE LAST NIGHT SO IF ITS WEIRD MAYBE THATS WHY ANYWAYS TAKE IT

Vyncent, or Virion, whatever name you’d like, he had no room to care right now, had lived on Prime for months. He might have even been here a year, hard to tell. Things get busy as an elf-boy superhero with your home world’s great heroes in your brain that give you use, who happens to have befriended a red head with so much energy and the power to kill the sun in a kick if he wanted, a white haired guy who had a book that could just make your worst of nightmares look tame and also sometimes a fairy, and a dead black-haired boy who couldn’t stop meeting the dead for some reason. Lots of stuff in Vyncent’s life.

So could someone explain to him that what was a common cold for anybody else here put Virion out of commission? Sure, he was more prone to getting sick, he’d face it like every other week, but at least then he could hide it! Sick wasn’t good back home. Sick was a death sentence, and this was why. When you can’t get up, you can’t run, you can’t fight. If healing magic didn’t fix you, it may work best to cut that loss yourself.

Unfortunately, Vyncent didn’t have healing magic, and trying to reach the Greats while you feel so uncomfortable and gross and, well, sick, you might rather eat rat poison. As such, he had to bug Will about it. He hasn’t even seen Will get a cough now that he’s thinking about it. Granted, he was dead and awesome, so maybe that had something to do with it.

“You’re not normally this hot, right? I have to make sure, again.” Will’s fingertips were slightly blackened, and the cold feeling on his forehead while nice almost made him jump. Right, dead boy cold. Cold dead boy. Cold hot dead boy- no, elf boy hot, dead boy cold. Yes, this made sense and was logical. Don’t question Vyncent, he’s normal and fine minus everything wrong with him.

“Mmm mmgh,” an excellent denial from Vyncent. He’s so good at this.

“Right, just…how long are you normally sick? Like, back home, does it get this bad? Do you guys even get sick there, or do you just, I dunno, shoot it better?”

He better not be mockin’ me.

He’s Will. He likes living, or whatever he is right now.

Right, the Greats. Not always Will’s biggest fans, but they weren’t going to come out while sick so rather than hear his voice insult his friend, he heard all their comments and thoughts insulting his friend. Bothering him, that’s what they’re “Great” at (he should leave the puns to the other guys).

“Mgh…” Great stuff Virion. Let’s see how William responds.

“Great stuff Vynce.” He puts a bowl on the table which seems to have a collection of ingredients that regular soup didn’t have.

“What’s-” He coughed a bit, cursed lungs. “What in that?”

“It’s a soup, just with stuff that you can actually eat. Like rats and stuff. I tried to put some medicine in it, just to see.”

“Where’d-” More coughs. “Where’d the rats come from?”

Will shudders. “I don’t think you want to know.”

Vyncent laughed a bit. He let his brain indulge itself, imagining what may have happened to get them. The image of him hunting the rats kept appearing in there. If his ears were a little more red, he’d blame being sick.

He just brought you soup, calm down lover boy.

Shut up, shut up shut up shut up.

[I think the kid’s embarrassed.]

Come on Stryder, pleaseeeeee.

Your pining is not hard to spot.

NOT YOU TOO ALPHONZ.

Vyncent turned over to his side, using the pillow to cover his ears as if that’ll work, groaning the whole time.

“You good man?”

“Yeah…’m jus’ feeling stupid…”

“Nobody feels too great when sick.”

“Mghh…”

“Can we try some soup? It should help, and you do have to eat.”

Vyncent had been so out of it, he forgot how long it had been since he ate. Maybe that’s why he felt so shit. Memory is dumb and should die forever. This is a logical conclusion. Vyncent was always a man of logic. You had to trust him.

He turned back over to Will, who happened to pull off the sickly look very well, attempting to push himself up so he could eat something. He could do things for himself, surely. Don’t ask him how well he’d do at them, because he wouldn’t lie and say he’d be great, cause that’s totally not lying. Totally.

I hope you can hear the sarcasm.

“No man, don’t- just sit back, it- it’s fine. You look deathly man, that’s coming from me.”

The emphasis was joking, making Vyncent giggle.

“Fine…”

“Save the energy.”

Like a baby, Vyncent was spoon fed soup, which the comparison he’d make would hurt more if he wasn’t just stuck on Will. His face was heating up, sure, but maybe it was less than the illness. Maybe it was more Will.

[He’s finally admitting it, good gods, took you long enough.]

Shhhhhhhhut it.

You’d think he’d have picked up on it by now, how bad you are.

Be ‘iet….

“Hm?”

“They're being loud…”

“Greats?”

“Mhm…they’re judging me.”

“About what? If they’re being dicks, uh- well, I couldn’t really fight Alphonz. Or Min. Or Ram. Or any of them- I’ll pretend like I can fight them!”

Vyncent laughs at this guy, this idiot he adores with all his heart, no matter how much of it will admit that. “Bout how pretty you are.”

Vyncent didn’t recall ever seeing Will blush, but this seemed, like, close to it. He starts nervously chuckling. “You really think that?”

“Mhm, ‘art of why I like you.”

He saw the cogs in Will’s brain malfunction and sputter. Did it make him lose it inside to have said that? Sure, but in the end, it’s Will. He’d hate to lose a friend right now, but he’s done worse and stuck around, and maybe in the end, Will could find someone who doesn’t get sick every other week.

“I- Uh- Vynce you feeling alright? Your forehead is really hot.” He starts nervously chuckling again. He did that a lot.

“Mhm, dead boy hot.”

Someone’s gained guts! Finally!

I actually have 0 idea what I’m doing and I don’t think I can back down now, so uh, thanks.

[Oh, yeah, no. You actually suck ass at this.]

Thanks asshole.

It is not a failure on your end. Your courting attempts seem to be affecting him well.

There was a detail in Will’s eyes. Just a glint of something. Was it hope, denial, something that was any more terrifying? Vyncent has little idea what’s happening at this point until they do. He’s going to hold onto that look though. He hopes it's something better than he could be. Just maybe something that gives him a sign.

“You- uh, you’re a hot elf boy, man, yeah.” He stumbled around his words, trying to not make eye contact. He sat on the sofa a bit awkwardly.

This is so stupid. I’m so stupid for this- the last sane thoughts of Vyncent as he moves- I’m so so terribly dumb for this. With a loss of any sanity and dignity he gets up and somewhat crawls over to William. He’s locked onto William’s eyes, and maybe his lips. Maybe this rotten dead man can be the medicine to cure him. His sickness feels a bit deeper than medical anyways.

“V-Vynce? W-Something up man?”

He cups Will’s face with a hand and rubs his thumb against his cheek. This is wrong, this is so so stupid and wrong and maybe Vyncent knows but also he has never felt this confidence and honestly? May as well use it to his advantage, the Fallen Ones know he would never get to do this again, not being this confident.

Vyncent had never kissed anybody. Kissing wasn’t exactly a Fauna thing, at least not what Vyncent learned, so this was new. It was a new sensation. On a regular level, this was just pushing his lips against another pair of lips. Emotionally, he was in a dream land. Things felt great. Will’s cold lips were a nice startlement, a shock turned to a calming cool throughout his body. They basically melted from the initial surprise into the kiss, Vyncent laying on top of Will as he light-headedly pulled back.

“...Woah.”

“‘Retty nice. You…your lips ‘aste ‘ice.” Vyncent had a love-strivenly stupid smile, and at this point, hiding from himself or Will was futile. It felt soft and comfortable in this moment, and knowing that even if he was weird inside, Will wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t have to either, Virion could lay on this couch and he didn’t have to run. He didn’t have to hide. That was something to like. He snuggled into Will.

“Movie ‘ight?”

“I- sure man. Not the weirdest it could be.”

“I like this.”

“Love you too, Vynce.”

Love you too.

who up ghosting their sick knife

[neo-shitty]

the dead man didn’t have to look that hot 😫

[larkiethings]

hi. I watched a video essay and now I’m back in one of my ace attorney phases.

[maxverstappendefender]

ain't no love in oklahoma // op81 smau

description: twisters actress!reader x op81 but lando is convinced oscar is lying (from request)

a/n: sorry for being completely inactive. life happened and it didn't happen in a good way! i have a huge exam coming up soon so i will most likely still be inactive besides maybe a few short things here and there. anyways first oscar fic so enjoy! all pics found on pinterest, i don't own any

a/n pt2: might do something fun for each day in october but im not sure what so send me some ideas. also might do some more headcannons/blurbs soon here!

requests: closed but feel free to send me some messages since i love talking to you guys

masterlist

liked by oscarpiastri, glenpowell, and 2,927,641 others

youruser: go see twisters!! if you don’t, you suck and you better hope you don’t get stuck in a tornado because there’s useful information in our movie

tagged: glenpowell

view all comments

oscarpiastri: proud of you!!

↳ youruser: 🧡

glenpowell: caption is so real of you

user1: doesn’t yn have a boyfriend? why is she so close to glen?

↳ user2: yes but probably because there’s limited space. yn isn’t like that

↳ oscarpiastri: exactly what user2 said

landonorris: cute!

↳ user3: what are you doing here??

↳ user4: lando in the comments?

user5: such a good movie

user6: yn + glen = power duo

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 3,951,750 others

oscarpiastri: proud boyfriend award goes to me 🏆 thx for all the bts selfies

tagged: youruser, glenpowell

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landonorris: i just laughed out loud

landonorris: “boyfriend” lmaooo

↳ user7: i cant tell if he’s joking or serious

user8: cutest couple ever

glenpowell: aww so glad you remembered the time you took me to the aquarium, what a romantic!

↳ youruser: get your own boyfriend capybara

↳ user9: yn CLOCKED him

// lando’s phone//

//

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 4,027,835 others

landonorris: POLE BABYYYY!!! everyone ignore my teammates instagram posts, i have told him to stop. i think he took a hit to the head or something

view all comments

oscarpiastri: do you want to go to the farm or not?

↳ landonorris: you already said i could go so no take backs

↳ user10: lando is going to yn's farm??

↳ user11: LANDO'S MEETING YN?!

↳ user12: oh i know he's going to fangirl so hard

user13: get me someone who looks at me the way oscar looks at lando

↳ user14: are we sure that they aren't the ones dating?

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 3,017,426 others

youruser: back home finally! pic 1: yeehaw. pic 2: my cat cora had her babies!!! pic 3: dinner date :)

tagged: oscarpiastri

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user15: CORA HAD HER KITTIES

↳ youruser: i am officially a grandma. i feel the gray hairs coming in now

user16: oscar and yn are endgame

oscarpiastri: the best company

↳ landonorris: STOP, idk how you got her in on this joke either

↳ user16: i can't tell if lando knows they are actually dating and is joking or if he truly does not believe oscar

user17: boyfriend is back on the feed!

↳ user18: farmer yn is back on the feed!

glenpowell: miss you lady

↳ youruser: you miss my animals more

↳ glenpowell: and what about it.

liked by youruser, oscarpiastri, and 4,209,384 others

landonorris: OMG HE WASN'T LYING i got to feed so many animals, got to channel my inner cowboy, AND get drunk with the yn? i can die a happy man

tagged: youruser

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oscarpiastri: believe me now?

↳ landonorris: never doubted you

↳ user19: lando seriously didn't believe oscar lol

↳ user20: i fully thought he was joking the entire time

user21: how hard did you fangirl to meet yn, lando?

↳ landonorris: surprised i didn't pass out honestly. i facetimed GLEN POWELL

youruser: so glad you had a fun time!!

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 3,298,361 others

oscarpiastri: everyone clear that this is my girlfriend?

tagged: youruser

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user22: sassy oscar

↳ user23: channeling his inner lando

landonorris: yes sir 🫡

↳ oscarpiastri: stop being weird ?

youruser: MY MANNNNN

↳ user24: oh she's in deep

user25: there is one thing oscar doesn't play about in life: yn

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 4,208,763 others

youruser: didn't even know there was confusion that this was my boyfriend lol

tagged: oscarpiastri

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landonorris: how was i meant to know?!

↳ user26: literally how everyone else knew, instagram.

glenpowell: yn stop posting pics of me and my boyfriend and acting like he's yours

↳ youruser: i dont like this joke.

↳ oscarpiastri: bromance or whatever

↳ user27: they're in a throuple

↳ youruser: ew

↳ glenpowell: disgusting

↳ oscarpiastri: huhhh

user28: couple goals forever and ever

user29: if they don't get married... love isn't real

[teddybeartoji]

zombie apocalypse au where you end up in a settlement and meet a cutiepie satoru. he's lived almost his entire life there – sure, he goes on runs every once in a while but you've been out there. it's different.

right?

the dark bags under your eyes have yet to fade but satoru has never heard you complain. he knows everybody gets a talk when they first come to this place; where they can get help, who they can talk to when if they have any problems. if you can't sleep. or eat. or if you still feel restless. it's understandable that the change from having to fight for your life on a daily basis to not even having to carry a gun with you is hard.

the food tastes weird when you're not starving and drinking water seems like a complete waste when you're not dying of thirst. the bed you sleep on is too soft, the sheets feel like silk and it makes your skin itch. it's off-putting.

and yet, not a single complaint has left your lips. you observe your surroundings while handing out pretty little smiles like they're candy. you say thank you and goodbye, you offer to help out with the chores that weren't even yours to begin with and you're willing to entertain the kids with silly jokes. it's an almost perfect mask.

but you're tense; your eyes are always scanning your environment despite the fact that you've been at the settlement for almost a week now. you stretch your lips to show your gratitude, but satoru sees the way your fist tightens whenever the room is too crowded. the way you pocket smaller snacks when you think that nobody is looking. the way you flinch at a faraway sound of a child's laugh.

satoru finds you utterly intriguing.

people come and go, but you... there's something different about you.

maybe it's the dark, murky look in your eyes whenever you're handling a knife. carving a piece of meat like it's something you do every day; your eyes are the only things that change – you give a small smile to the lady working next to you as a thank you for whatever kind of advice she just gave you. she pats the steak while laughing and satoru doesn't miss the way your lips twitch.

you lick the remnants of the meat that stick to your fingers, the liquid that dribbles down the side of your hand the second she turns around. and satoru can't look away.

but there's no obvious malice.

it's interesting.

satoru is no detective, but he's done his fair share of people looking. what else is there to do when you're locked behind big walls; people are interesting, especially now that the world has ended. they tick faster, they explode bigger. they shiver more, they cry more. the lies have more consequences. it's hard to trust others, it's hard to trust anybody at this point. but satoru's eyes are keen, more so than anyone else's there.

you're not some caged beast, you're no dog on a leash, but you're an animal nonetheless. satoru just doesn't know which one yet. which of the living things that reside in the woods is calm enough to get so close to other people? confident enough. arrogant enough.

which one of them is as curious as you are? as sly? which one of them knows how to hide their sharp teeth behind a warm smile? satoru promises to himself that he'll figure it out, no matter what it takes.

or maybe the 'something' is the way you handle yourself when things go south. you didn't look away when a walker that managed to slip in through the gates sank his teeth into a man's neck. when everybody else was in shock, their eyes set on the gory sight in front of them – you were the first to grab the closest thing resembling a weapon and to deal with it.

blood splattered all over your clean clothes, your hair, your face. but you paid it no mind. this is what you're used to, this is what's normal. taking a knife to the poor wailing man laying on the ground was nothing special either. you kneeled down beside him and looked him in the eyes as you did it.

desperate hands reached out for you as fear settled in his stomach. he grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and pulled you closer, pleas stumbling from his lips like a waterfall. but to you, he was dead already. there's no remorse, there's no guilt. you're not a killer, you're a survivor.

satoru's mind raced as he watched you work while all the other had turned away, their sobs barely reaching his ears. no remorse, no guilt.

he just thought the blood looked beautiful on you.

but you're keen, too.

you try not to pay him too much attention, you try not to look but you feel his curious eyes wherever you go. you hear him laugh and you see his big smiles. he likes to play with the kids and he likes to tease his peers. he seems to know just about everybody, mingling in their lives by acting like a cupid or just indulging in gossip like some high schooler.

but something rotten sprouts deep inside him as well.

there's blood on his hands and you know it the second your gazes meet from across the big dining hall. the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples make a show as he gives you a grin, sharp teeth shining right at you. he knows you and you know him.

a survivor always recognizes a survivor.

[talkbycolor]

MC's kindergarden . . . ↷

Yanderes as toddlers AU

GN!Reader as a teacher who doesnt get paid enough for this.

CW: just a bunch of weird kids wanting to marry their teacher, keep scrolling

Sunny Day Jack.

the golden child, the angel of the classroom, he is a little devil in disguise, getting his classmates into trouble so that his teacher thinks he is the best

he looks like a mini teacher, he teaches colors to his classmates and shares everything (except the teacher)

uses guilt to convince his teacher, but with that little face and red cheeks, who wouldn't fall for it?

a very intelligent child but he is selfish, he learned to steal cookies from the kitchen and has not told anyone

he gives part of his lunch to his teacher, he likes to eat and sit next to him, he is the child who gives bouquets of flowers picked from the playground (MC already scolded him so he should look for other places to get flowers)

MC doesn't usually scold him often since he manipulates and makes kicked puppy eyes to get his way, a mini bastard

John Doe.

probably autistic and socially anxious child, very attached to MC, they must always accompany him to go to the bathroom, he eats in the classroom during recess time while MC teacher accompanies him

this is the child you have to make sure doesn't go through the trash or eat the crayons

he is actually a very sweet boy, MC usually combs his hair before school so it doesn't bother him, for some reason Doe always has it tangled and dirty

he can't count to 10 with his hands, poor thing

cat-like affection, gives insects or interesting things he found on the playground to his teacher

when the children play house, he is the mascot

Alan Orion.

boy obsessed with outer space, his lunch box and clothes are full of planets and stars

wants to impress MC with his knowledge about space, he usually tells them facts about galaxies and constellations during classes

MC of course would notice certain marks on Alan's little body, he would feel protective of the child (llamen al dif)

he steals things from his classmates, he was already scolded several times by MC

animal lover, once brought a moth he found on the playground into the classroom and Doe ate it, he cried for thirty minutes while MC comforted him

when he plays with puppets he pretends that one puppet is him and the other is MC, usually his games are of them getting married and living in the forest

Peter Dunbar.

a very sociable child simply because he is indifferent to all other people other than MC, he enjoys causing mischief to his classmates who play with MC

MC has to make sure Peter doesn't bite his fingers or scratch his face, a habit he has while concentrating

Peter looks like a bald rat when it's very hot weather, which MC finds funny, but they still puts sunscreen on him so the boy doesn't get sun-burned

even though there are many things that Peter doesn't like, like swimming, fruits or singing, he would do it for MC, adding the biggest embarrassment of his life by doing group dance with his classmates but happy to see his favorite teacher smiling

he would bring sweet lunches to share with his teacher, lying by saying that it is too much and he can't eat it all by himself (Peter loves sweet lunches but he loves his teacher more)

probably draws him and MC on the board with lots of hearts around them, causing the other kids in the classroom to start crying because they want to be the only ones for MC

Ren.

a cutie with his teacher, a bastard with everyone else, he knows how to maintain that image very well to fool MC

he sneaks into the staff room to see you, very attentive, isn't he? sometimes he leaves small gifts on your table

fights with Peter every time he tries to get him in trouble with the teacher, he must maintain his good boy reputation for you to love him!

the last time a girl confessed to him, Ren pushed her into the mud of the playground and made her cry, unfortunately the girl told MC and Ren also cried, not because of the scolding but because he didn't want MC to think that he was bad

once he saw you outside of class time, you were at the supermarket and he panicked because he had fake tattoos that he put on (they came in the packaging of the gum he ate)

MC would come to think that Ren lives in a super religious way since he always draws angels. Ren doesn't draw angels, he draws an angel (you)

Mycheal.

another little manipulator but this one cries every time he tricks MC and gets hugs illicitly (little baby)

he is a very hardworking child in class when it is time to do manual work, he likes to make small paper flowers for his teacher

the baby gets very sad every time he is left out of school projects, he doesn't know why no one seems to like him. surprisingly, he managed to get along fairly well with John Doe until he noticed his interest in MC

usually wraps his tail around MC's leg whenever he feels nervous or sick, that has been an indicator for MC to lull the child

kid who is a cotton candy fan, Peter pushed him while they were playing on the playground and his candy fell to the ground (he cried for 40 minutes)

kitten boy starts purring when MC praises his work

Keith and Tenebris.

as for them, I decided that they were twins in this AU (tenebris still has his blue skin and strange smile), they don't seem to get along very well and have a marked rivalry because they both want MC for themselves

Keith usually hates being in the classroom because his classmates are very noisy, MC has tried to help him with the overstimulation so that it is not an uncomfortable experience, since then Keith loves going to kindergarten

Tenebris does not get along with most of his classmates (if not all), he came close to befriending John Doe and Mycheal because they know what it's like to be treated differently because of how they look, but Doe scared him off by showing him a pair of beetles he found on the playground and Mycheal…well, just by being a liar

Keith is a very dedicated child, he likes to take care of the flowers in the playground with the help of MC, his teacher usually reads books about facts about flowers and apparently Keith is one of the few who pays attention (he cries every time that Jack plucks flowers from the garden to give them to MC)

Tenebris uses a toy guitar from the classroom to serenade his favorite teacher, that always kills MC with cuteness (Tenebris gets angry because it's not a real guitar)

when there are school trips, Keith always takes his teacher's hand and tries to pull them to see everything he finds interesting with them, whether it's a flower or a heart-shaped cloud

Tenebris always takes advantage when playing with swords with his classmates to satisfy his violent need to hurt everyone who likes MC, the game ends up turning into a real battle and Tenebris is scolded

Solivan Brugmansia.

at first glance, MC thought that the boy was always upset and didn't like him being around, but Sol just doesn't know what to do like when he's around his favorite teacher

the quiet child in the classroom, prefers to do his work alone, always takes the opportunity to draw MC with chalk on the playground

the boy is obviously obsessed (and not in a fun way) with his teacher, his parents came to the classroom angry because Sol had his sketchbooks full of sketches of you

you are the only person he allows to hold his stuffed animal, he leaves it with you whenever he goes to the bathroom and asks you to play with it, you don't think it's strange that Sol has a stuffed horse, children have strange toys all the time

Sol is clearly a target for bullying, you know it, you see it, so you have to constantly check that he is not hurt (Peter put gum in his hair once and he cried a lot)

SURPRISINGLY, he is one of the few children who has REAL friends, he has Hyugo, a classmate from another class, Hyugo knows about his crush on MC and is not very secretive, Sol has to cover his mouth or push him to the sandbox to make him shut up

Damon.

puppy love, usually chases other children on all fours and licks snot from his own nose

barks every time someone gets too close to MC but in the end the scolding is always worth it since MC teacher strokes his head when he doesn't promise it won't happen again (it will happen again)

he will believe anything you tell him, he is quite gullible with the things that MC says, if his teacher tells him that he can't dig holes in the playground because giant insects will come out of there that will eat everyone, Damon believes it

sweet tooth, loves chocolate, MC has to be careful with what his students eat, Damon often hides chocolate bars in his pockets and that always ends in MC confiscating the chocolates

Damon has a friend in another class who he calls DG, he is his best friend and again Damon is one of the few kids with real friends in your class, DG knows that Damon likes you but unlike Hyugo he is more secretive

when there are school dances, Damon gives his all, always trying hard, not only because he loves to dance but he also loves when his favorite teacher applauds and praises him

 ♡

[bunny-jpeg]

baby fever

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk, breeding/pregnancy, filthy, husband!price, slight age gap (reader is early 20s, price late 30s), military formal wear, oral (m receiving), doggy style, unprotected

bunny says: i thought about built/chubby price and him in his military formals and my brain turned off. this was the end result.

price wasn't beating the bear allegations. while he wasn't a gay bear, he knew that there were a lot of women who loved his physique. dusting of hair, built but enjoyed a good sunday roast. thick fingers and broad tongue. he was a built man after his years of service.

but if price had to pin you as an animal, it would be his little chickadee. small and fragile with a cute little song. the most loveliest thing he had ever laid his eyes on. no wonder within a year of dating, you were already engaged.

price knew when he had a good thing going and didn't want to ruin it. you were still in university, but he'd never make his darling girl quit school for his sake.

"'ey, love." he said as he walked past you on your laptop. he leaned in and kissed the side of your neck, "studyin' well?"

you looked over and smiled at him, "of course, big bear." you took him by the face and kissed him on the cheek. your engagement ring gleamed in the light of the living room.

but even the brightest university students could easily crumble against a man like price. it didn't help that there was a spike in your baby fever. it was almost embarrassing when you watched price in the living room, shining his uniform boots. it also didn't help when he was making sure that formal attire still fit.

he noticed you staring, you didn't try to hide it.

he stood there in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom. the beret, the jacket, the medals. hands on his hips as he looked at you. he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the sight of your jaw almost on the floor.

"tryin' to see if everythin' still fit. need to go back to the gym, your cookin' is gonna be the death of me, love." he chuckled. he dragged his tongue across his top teeth and said, "now that i know, why don't ya help me get out of it."

maybe a man in uniform was your (not-so) secret kink. you've seen him in everything under the sun, but every time it still made your throat dry. you were in your sunday pajamas, paired with fuzzy slippers.

he reached out for you, "ya like when i'm dressed like this, huh?" he chuckled as he tilted his head down to kiss the top of your head.

"i mean." you said, "you look good." you blushed a little bit more and looked away from him, but he took you by the chin to look at him. those blue eyes peered into yours.

"don't be shy, love." he said, "i like when ya stare."

you held onto the front of his jacket, the thick material felt heavy in your grasp. you could feel the wetness between your legs. damn price. you said, "you look good, big bear."

he reached down and took a handful of your ass, "and you look even better, my chickadee. now c'mon, undress yer man." then licked his top lip at the sight of your delicate hands trying to undo the formal jacket. he then took you by the head again and said, "pants first." then helped you onto your knees.

you swallowed and looked up at him. if anyone looked inside, they'd see a weird power dynamic. but all price saw was an eager little birdie trying to get her hands on her husband.

"those medals look nice." you said as he reached for his belt.

he chuckled, "not as nice as your lips on my cock." then dragged a hand through your hair. the belt soon came off as his pants were unzipped. he was thankful that he knew how to get any stains out of his uniform, because he knew you were a messy girl.

you took his cock out of his slacks. it stood was full attention and even after all this time together, the sight of it was still arousing. cut, thick, a deep pink (not quite red) and almost eight inches in length. you once joked it was a "porno dick".

you kissed the underside of it with such warmth that it made the man shudder. then started the slow, small licks against the shaft. you chuckled to yourself at the feeling of his cock under your tongue. he felt like a dream.

"that's a good girl. my darlin' girl." he said with a hint of pride in his voice. he loved the sight of you on his knees. even if the sweat down his back was making the heavy jacket more uncomfortable.

you stroked the base of his cock with one hand while you put your mouth fully on the tip. you teased it with wet strokes of you tongue. you could hear the gruff noise your husband made.

you squirmed a little while on your knees and could feel a dull throb between your legs. price's cock was an impressive sight and a task to fully get in your mouth.

"ya got a small mouth, love.' he remarked jokingly, "too small for all of this. but i know you'll do your best.' he combed his fingers through your hair once more before it rested on the back of your head.

he supported your head while you continued to orally pleasure him. he loved his woman on her knees in front of him. while he held you in high regard, he thought you were the sweetest things since strawberries on cake, but there was something about seeing HIS woman like this.

you looked up at him and a groan got caught in his throat. you gave him a cute little wink before you continued to stroke him off. your other hand was on his strong thigh for support as you pleasured him.

"oh sweet fuck." he groaned.

you knew you'd never take all of him in your throat but you made the most of what you could. his cock was heavy in your mouth as you continued to move your head.

he gripped the back of your head, he felt hot all over as pleasure pumped through his veins. he loved his girl, his darling sweet angel. yeah the age difference was to raise an eyebrow at. but if they knew the angel he managed to get a ring on, they'd understand.

his little chickadee.

you looked up at him once more. the way he looked down at you with a guiding hand on the back of your head. you pulled your mouth off his cock and looked up at him with your tongue out of your mouth.

"fuckin' doll eyes." he said, "get back to what you were doin', i want to see you take every last drop."

you once again went back to orally pleasuring him. your hand dug into the meat of his thigh as you tried to take more of his cock in your throat. the noises that came from your husband made your core ache.

the bright pink in his cheeks made you smile as he messed up with hair with his broad hands. he felt so big next to you. his little precious wife doing everything in her power to get him off.

with a few more thrusts of your head with his cock nudging the back of your throat. you moved to keep the tip against your tongue as he came down your throat. you didn't want to choke on his cum but you savored every last salty drop.

maybe a man in uniform did things to you.

when you pulled away, you looked up at him. "i want you, john." you said as you licked your lips and wiped your chin with the back of your hand, "i want to have your babies." the baby fever was thrumming in your veins, "fuck me, big bear."

he raised an eyebrow, "babies, huh? i thought you wanted to be a working woman." he said cheekily.

you rose to your feet, your legs were shaky as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform jacket and kissed him deeply. you almost toppled over him but he held you by the middle for support. when you pulled away, you panted as you said, "breed me price, or i'll find someone else to do it."

his expression darkened, "don't be sayin' things like that, love." he pulled you close to him. his cock was still hard between you two, "you better not run off with some runt." he kissed your heated cheek, "now face down, ass up, chickadee."

you pulled away from him and turned towards the bed. you shredded your clothes and almost threw yourself onto the large mattress. your face against the pillow with your back arched and hips raised.

you felt the bed sink soon after with your husband's large hands on your hips and his cock rested against your ass.

"your uniform." you squeaked.

"i'll iron it tonight." he replied, "right now, my darlin' girl needs her pussy fucked." his vulgar language made a shiver run through you.

when he bottomed out into your pussy, you felt the air escape your lungs. you clutched onto the pillow. he got a perfect view of your backside, his gaze felt hungry against you.

"please."

"my darlin' girl." price said softly. he leaned in and kissed you on the shoulder. you felt like a tight heat around him. "my beautiful wife." price adored that you were his wife. that you decided to marry him, now he got to feel up your beautiful figure every moment.

"god, john." you moaned, "was it always this damn big?"

he chuckled lowly, "you make me hard, love. i see ya and i just go wild." he then started to kiss at your shoulders and neck.

you held onto the pillow and panted in the pillows. you felt the sweat at your back as you were fucked. you panted into the fabric and felt your husband thrust into you.

"sweeter than jam and more fuckable than a toy." he chuckled lowly as he began to pick up the pace. he could feel your heat under him, you were a dream in his eyes.

the precious wife to be a beloved captain, almost twenty years her senior. the bed creaked under your movements and the sweet sounds of your sex filled the air. it was also joined by your sweet noises that encouraged your husband to keep fucking you.

you felt hot all over as the man fucked you. the pleasure rolled through your body as you moved against the bed. you panted and moaned into the pillow and let your husband thrust into you.

"my sweet girl." he purred.

"please, john." you whined.

the sex between you two felt hot, like you were on a knife's edge as he rutted against you. you could feel the heat pool in your gut as he moved against you. sweat clung to your chest and neck. your hair stuck against your skin.

"that's it." he murmured. his cock throbbed inside of you.

your love making continued, you pushed the hair out of your eyes the more he fucked you from behind. your hands were deep in the pillow as you moaned into the fabric.

price loved the sight of you. he just thought that you looked amazing, HIS girl was like this under him. he was your big strong bear and he loved the sight of you under him. just a dream to him. his heat raced in his hairy chest as he placed more weight on you.

"shit, john." you groaned.

"I got ya. i'll be finishin' in ya soon. give ya all the babes you want." he chuckled as he kissed your heated cheek. his thrusts were quick and made you see stars behind your lids.

you were heated all over and your head was swimming. you panted wildly into the bed and with a few more strokes of his cock, you came around him.

price groaned at intense heat around his cock. he went as fast as he could and felt the sweat down his toned back. he pressed himself further into you and finished.

his cum shot to the back of your cunt and you let out a pleased noise. his pace slowed down until he stopped and pulled out. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and scratched his hairy chest, "how's that, love?"

you laid fully flat on the bed and nodded your head, "we're going to have to keep goin' though, big bear. you've done so much damage to yourself that your swimmers aren't as strong as they used to be." so you rolled onto your back and reached for him, "c'mon. fuck me again."

he chuckled as he leaned back on his heels and stroked his cock, "of course chickadee. anythin' for ya."

[gilbertscurls]

can you do one of matt thinking reader is cheating and they get into a bad argument and dont speak for a couple days but than he apologizes

hope you like it!! <3

Complicated ➵ Matt Sturniolo

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through as you stood on opposite sides of the room, Matt pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His usually calm demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced with a storm brewing in his eyes, each step filled with frustration.

“You think I don’t see it?” His voice cracked, like he was struggling to keep himself together, the edge in his tone unfamiliar, biting. “All those times you’ve been distant? On your phone constantly? Don’t lie to me, I’m not an idiot.”

Your heart raced in your chest, his words hitting you harder than you expected. You blinked back tears, disbelief washing over you. Matt’s accusations felt like daggers, cutting through the trust you had built together. “What are you even talking about?” You asked, voice shaking as you tried to keep your composure. “I haven’t done anything. Why are you suddenly so paranoid?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, eyes narrowing at you. “Suddenly? It’s been building for weeks, and you know it. You’ve been pulling away, and I see the way you’ve been texting someone else. You think I’m blind?”

It hit you then — the misplaced jealousy, the suspicion. He had been watching you, second-guessing your every move, twisting them into something they weren’t. You could feel the anger rising in your chest, mixing with the hurt, your hands trembling by your sides.

“Matt,” you started, your voice growing firmer, “I’m not cheating on you. I don’t know where this is coming from, but this is insane. I would never do that to you.”

He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours, desperation swirling in them. “Then what is it, huh? Why have you been acting so weird? Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

You could see the cracks beneath his anger, the insecurity gnawing at him, but his accusations were too much. The very thought that he believed you would betray him like that stung deeply, and it made you question everything.

“Because we’ve both been busy, Matt. College, your channel, life — it’s all happening so fast. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. You know me better than this.”

He looked down, clenching his fists as if he was trying to get a grip on himself. “I just— I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” he muttered, his voice finally softening, but the damage was already done. The weight of the argument settled heavily in the space between you, a canyon that felt too wide to cross.

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered, the pain evident in your voice, “but if you keep pushing me away with these accusations, maybe you will.”

That hit him hard. He turned, walking to the window, his back to you, shoulders tense. The silence was suffocating, the words unsaid hanging in the air like thick smoke. You stood there, feeling the weight of his doubt pressing down on you, wondering how things had spiraled out of control so quickly.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” you said after what felt like an eternity, grabbing your coat. The coldness in your tone was unfamiliar even to yourself, but you couldn’t help it. The hurt was too raw. “When you’re ready to actually listen to me, you know where to find me.”

Without waiting for a response, you walked out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. But the quiet sound felt like a deafening finality, like a door slamming on everything you’d built together.

The days that followed felt like an eternity. Neither of you reached out, both too stubborn, too hurt. You missed him — every part of you missed him — but you couldn’t be the one to break first, not when he was the one who doubted you. The silence between you stretched into every part of your day, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

You tried to focus on school, on anything but him, but his absence was like a gaping wound that refused to heal. You kept replaying the fight in your head, wondering where it all went wrong, how everything had unraveled so quickly.

Three days later, you heard a knock at your door. Your heart leaped into your throat, hoping it was Matt. You opened it to find him standing there, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there was a sadness about him that made your heart ache.

“I—” he started, but his voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat before trying again. “I’m so sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice almost broke you. You’d imagined this moment over and over, but now that it was here, you weren’t sure what to say. You stood there, frozen, as he took a tentative step closer.

“I messed up,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I know I did. I let my fears get the better of me, and I said things I shouldn’t have. I should’ve trusted you… I do trust you. I just— I was scared. Scared that you’d leave, that I wasn’t enough.”

The vulnerability in his words made you soften, the anger and hurt slowly ebbing away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of sadness for him. For both of you.

“Matt…” You finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, “I never wanted to hurt you, but you can’t keep doubting me like that. We can’t keep going like this.”

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours, filled with regret. “I know. I swear, I’ll never doubt you again. I’ll work on it, I promise.” He took another step closer, his hand hesitating before reaching out to you. “Please, just give me another chance. I don’t want to lose you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the remorse, the desperation, the love — all of it written so clearly on his face. And despite everything, despite the pain and the fight, you still loved him. Maybe that was enough to try again.

Slowly, you took his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers against yours. “We have to communicate better, Matt. We can’t keep hurting each other like this.”

“I know.” He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find some reassurance that everything would be okay. “I’ll do better. I swear.”

You stood there for a moment, letting the tension melt away, replaced by a tentative hope. There was still a lot to work through, still wounds to heal, but as you looked at him, you knew that you were both willing to try. And maybe that was enough.

“I love you,” you whispered, and you saw the relief wash over his face.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274

[aureatelys]

adore you

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 3k a/n: written for @mggslover's 1k celebration event, congrats baby! i initially wrote 5k, hated it, and basically rewrote all of it but i swear i still had fun writing this. i hope you enjoy <3

summary:

Weird. You're acting like my boyfriend. - God Is a Freak, Peach PRC Your boss has essentially become your best friend. What the hell does Derek mean he looks at you a certain way?

c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, age gap ofc, feelings realization, reader is oblivious and tipsy but is a consenting party

read below or on ao3 here <3

“So, you and Hotch, huh?”

You had just finished putting your coat up, stepping through the massive entryway of Rossi’s mansion, when Derek approaches you with that familiar shit-eating grin and hands rubbing together like he’s scheming something.

You blink up at him, confused. “Yeah… he gave me a ride.”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still wearing that smile that made you want to lovingly punch him. “Yeah, I saw that. I meant, you and Hotch aren’t…?”

You squint at him, because you really aren’t sure what he’s hinting at. Also, a glass of wine has been calling your name since you started getting ready and Derek is very much in the way of that. Hotch was always annoyingly punctual, and today was no different because you were honestly about to open up a bottle when you heard his car pull up in the driveway. “We aren’t what?”

“Sweetness. You’re really trying to tell me you and Hotch aren’t together?”

You choke on your spit, coughing so loud in your fist that it echoes down the entryway and gathers the attention of Rossi and Hotch at the end of it. You wave them off when they both give you equally alarmed and concerned looks while Derek laughs heartily, like the asshole he is.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss at him, slapping him on the shoulder as he nearly makes himself tear up from laughing.

Derek puts a somewhat apologetic hand on your arm as he steers you to the kitchen and pours you a glass of red, finally. “Hey, I see the way he looks at you, I just wanted to make sure I’m up to date on everything.”

And that catches your attention.

Your chest still aching from your coughing fit, you give him another perplexed look. “What? He looks at me the same way as he looks at everyone.”

Derek’s face morphs into a nervous, almost uncomfortable one as he starts slowly backing away into the living room, as if you were an unpredictable dangerous animal. “I think I’m gonna… look for Garcia.”

And then he turns on his heel and is out of the kitchen before you can blink, leaving you with your lone glass of wine and the sounds of laughter emanating from the patio.

You’re still so fucking confused, because you and Hotch were only friends. In fact, you can almost consider him your best friend with the way you two are spending so much time together, even on the weekends.

One late night spent in his office to work on reports that were due the next day that you had procrastinated on and ordering Chinese food eventually turned into a habitual thing, now spending the last hour of the workday every night in his office. Then, he started inviting you to the park to play with Jack who had apparently been asking for you, then staying for dinner because Hotch was not eating the way he should’ve been and him and Jack didn’t deserve to eat pizza rolls with mac and cheese every night.

It's been a couple of months and now, you can honestly say you two are nearly attached at the hip. You’ve tried to tone it down for the office, because you knew you would get teased, and clearly you were right.

But dating Hotch? Honestly, the thought had never occurred to you.

You’ve been single for over a year and you were okay with that, because at least the job kept you busy. And you know for a fact that Hotch hasn’t even thought about dating since Beth moved a couple of years ago.

The sudden thought of Beth, her pretty blue-green eyes and perfect hair, causes a sour taste to form in your mouth. You had never met her, having only technically heard good things about her, but every time you thought of her or someone mentioned her in passing, you felt… upset.

For no reason.

When you glance at Hotch from where he’s talking with the rest of the team on the patio, you catch his gaze for a brief second before he’s turning his head back around to chuckle at something Rossi says.

You feel your heart start to race, your blood rushing through your ears, because what the fuck did Derek mean when he said Hotch looks at you a certain way? You were telling the truth when you said you’ve only noticed him looking at you platonically and nothing more.

Sure, Hotch was conventionally attractive, handsome even. You guess he hit all your boxes in a guy; tall, capable hands, and pretty brown eyes. He was a good boss, a good man, and was always putting other people first before even thinking about himself. He had an intense sense of justice, loves children, and would do absolutely anything for his team and even beyond for Jack.

He has a nice laugh once you break down his walls. For all he’s meticulous at work, his house is absolutely chaotic and it takes you nearly an hour sometimes to get him and Jack ready for a soccer game. He doesn’t prefer to cook but he seems to enjoy it more when you’re in the kitchen with him, laughing at his technique and groaning about the lack of certain utensils.

The sudden realization that you like Hotch, your boss that is older than you by 20 years, hits you like a ton of bricks. You nearly snap the stem of your wine glass, something like panic and mortification climbing up your throat before you could help it.

It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s normal to have a crush on someone you spend time with on a regular basis and is conventionally attractive. You can deal with that.

But the absolute possibility that Hotch doesn’t want you romantically was very real. In fact, it had to be the only possibility. You were younger and less experienced, both romantically and professionally. The only reason that he’s been spending so much time with you was because you needed guidance and reassurance as the newest member of the team.

He doesn’t look at you any differently than the others. That’s it. Derek has no idea what he’s talking about.

You take a shuddering deep breath, quickly composing yourself because, hello, you work with profilers. Which meant you couldn’t avoid or hide from Hotch tonight, no matter how much you wanted to.

When you make your way out to the patio to join the others with a full glass of wine and you spot the only space left in the circle was between Spencer and Penelope, you internally thank whatever God was out there. The sound of them talking over each other about something inane was oddly comforting as your eyes met Aaron’s from the other side of the circle.

His eyes appeared golden from the numerous fairy lights strewn across Rossi’s backyard, making his face appear softer and younger. You’re not sure how it took you this long to realize he was so handsome.

He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you were okay because, somehow, he’s grown to learn your facial expressions like the back of his hand, which means he most likely will catch on to you having a silly juvenile crush on him.

You give him a weak smile, raising your glass slightly before taking a large gulp of it. You’re glad that Rossi is Rossi and that he doesn’t spare any expenses when he throws his parties, the strong cherry flavor refreshing compared to your cheap boxed wine you’re used to. You don’t even remember what you were celebrating tonight, or if you were even celebrating anything at all and this was just another much needed get together after case after case.

You catch something soft in Hotch’s eyes that makes your chest pang painfully as he raises his own glass of whiskey before taking a sip. No one else has noticed, too enthralled by their own conversations, so the intimacy of the private moment doesn’t escape you, in fact making you even more anxious.

It was going to be a long night.

-

You are absolutely going to give Derek an earful on Monday morning.

It’s entirely his fault that you’re not enjoying Rossi’s party to the full extent, his words swimming in your mind.

Now, you’re psychoanalyzing and second-guessing everything Hotch does.

You had made sure to walk alongside Penelope on the way to the large round table for dinner, somewhat consciously as you continued to avoid Hotch but also because she was rambling about the show you suggested she watch. Spencer was on the other side of you, interjecting whenever he could, and you made a mental note that Hotch was still on the other side of the circle between Rossi and Tara.

So imagine your surprise when, after you tear your attention away from Spencer’s ramblings and back to Penelope, you’re met with Hotch’s pretty eyes and woodsy cologne instead.

“Oh, hi,” you say, hoping he doesn’t hear the shakiness that’s suddenly overtaken your voice as that familiar panic starts to crawl up your throat. This wasn’t going to be good.

“’Hi.” The corners of Hotch’s lips quirk up, eyes softening, and what the fuck is going on. “Can I sit next to you?”

You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. This man cannot be healthy for you. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

And then he’s pulling out your chair for you.

And it’s not anything new—he pulls your chair out for you all the time, in the conference room, in his dining table when you made not-pizza rolls, and even at restaurants the afternoons after Jack’s soccer games. You’ve never thought anything of it, but tonight, after your impeccably timed realization, your brain feels like it’s going to implode.

He’s just being a gentleman, that’s all.

“Thank you,” you manage out, heat starting to come to your face. Before Hotch, no one’s ever pulled your chair out for you. It’s nice.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, because of course not, just scoots your chair in closer to the table before he takes his seat on your right.

And he’s sitting really fucking close to you.

Have you always sat this close to each other before? You must have at least once during those late nights in his office, poring over case file after case file.

Not only could you feel the heat of his body just from sitting next to him, but his arm kept brushing up against your bare one while he ate, because of course you had to sit on the left side of a left-handed person. Every brush of the sleek fabric of his green button-up against your bare arm sent shivers down your spine despite the summer air, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

His hand kept brushing against yours as you ate and your eyes are drawn to how large his hands are as he handles his fork and the thickness of his forearms, having had rolled up his sleeves earlier. If you searched closely, you could find scars scattered over them through the dusting of hair, undoubtedly from his time on the job.

You don’t realize you’re staring at his Rolex and the way it glints underneath the lights, until Hotch is suddenly leaning into you. “Are you okay?”

Jesus Christ, hearing that smooth voice speaking lowly in your ear, breath warm as it fans over your cheek, causes all of the air in your lungs to escape. Has his voice always been that smooth, attractive?

When you risk a glance at him, conversations around the table slowly fading into the background, his face is merely inches from yours. His brows are pinched in concern and lips are pressed into a flat line. There’s something dancing in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

You clear your throat. “Sorry, I think the wine is just getting to me.”

He chuckles low underneath his breath. “Good thing I’m driving.”

And then he’s knocking the back of his hand against yours, the briefest brush of skin that causes electricity to zing up your spine, and then he’s back to listening intently to Derek and Emily’s bickering over who cheated at the last game of charades.

At this point, you think Hotch is able to read your mind. Why else would he be touching you, be sweet on you, if not to torture you?

You try to wrack your brain through these past couple of months, trying to find whether Hotch touching his hand to yours has happened before or any other sign that he actually is attracted to you. You come up short.

You chalk it up to him loosening up from his whiskey. He’s already moved onto water, because he was your ride, after all, so maybe this was a fluke. A one-off.

But it’s not a one-off. In fact, you think you’ve honestly died and gone to Heaven after suddenly tripping and breaking your head open in the entryway after Derek spoke with you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were actually on a date with Hotch, sans the rest of the team.

He must have noticed your distracted mood, because he’s making sure you’re included in almost every table conversation by glancing at you and giving you a smile that has started to make something flutter in your stomach. He’s participating minimally like usual, content to listen, but whenever he has a comment or thought he wants to share, he’s leaning in and sharing it with you.

He's leaning in to top of your wine, reaching over the table to get more of those green beans you like, and once even knocking his knee against yours underneath the table when you looked especially lost in thought while staring at your plate.

And then when the team has moved into the living room for charades, Emily wanting payback against Derek, it somehow gets even worse.

You’re quick enough to be the first to volunteer to not play due to there being an odd number of players, thus requiring Hotch to play. Everyone cheers teasingly, because Hotch is always quick to volunteer himself out of games, content to watch.

You blame the copious glasses of wine you’ve consumed and the decadent filling dinner, warmth thrumming through your entire body, when you poke at Hotch’s considerably firm bicep. “Show us what you got, old man.”

There are resounding oohs and aahs from the rest of the team. Something fuzzy settles in your chest when Hotch rolls his eyes good-naturedly at you and stands up from where he had sat next to you on the couch to JJ’s team.

You continue to nurse your wine, pleasantly buzzed, as you are thoroughly entertained by your team’s antics. Emily and Rossi argue at least 3 times, Penelope gets significantly close to having a private meeting with HR, and Hotch continues to stare at you.

Or at least, you think he’s staring at you. The alcohol has started making you second guess things even more than you already were. Because for some reason, despite JJ sitting on the other side of the living room and being on a team with her, he moved to sit in the empty spot next to you after the first round.  

He’s definitely participating in the game, even in second place behind Penelope and Derek, but you swear you feel his eyes on you now more than ever.

It’s distracting as you try to follow the game and guess along with everyone else. This time, the right side of him is nearly molded against your left side, pressing into you so hard that you’re starting to sweat from how much body heat he’s radiating.

When you glance at him to try and catch his eyes, he meets your gaze steadily. His hair is starting to come undone, a few strands falling against his forehead, and his dimple seems to have made a permanent appearance from how much he’s pretending not to laugh at his team’s antics.

It’s nice to see him enjoy himself—a flush rising up his neck and shoulders relaxed. Although you understand he has a certain image he maintains for his team, it’s become familiar to you.

By the time it dwindles close to midnight, there’s a chorus of yawns around the group. Penelope’s the first to call it, stumbling to grab a hold of Derek’s arm and dragging him with her out the door to drive her home, ruining your initial plans to catch a ride home with her instead of Hotch. After that, everyone starts to say their goodnights and exchanging hugs despite the chance you may get called on a case as early as tomorrow morning.

“You ready to go?” Hotch leans to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning over you again and causing heat to rise to your face.

“Absolutely,” you exhale, clutching the water bottle that Hotch retrieved for you in the middle of the game, hoping the breathiness in your voice could be blamed on how late it was.

When you get to Hotch’s car, heart full and warm after spending another wonderful evening with your makeshift family, he opens the passenger side door for you.

You think you’re going to lose your mind if he keeps this up. How are you supposed to stop having a crush on Hotch when he keeps doing things that justify that crush?

“Do you need to stop anywhere for anything? Are you hungry?”

You blame it on the wine despite the fact you’ve been drinking nothing but water for the past hour, thanks to Hotch silently getting you and only you a water. Your body and tongue feels loose, inhibitions naturally decreased, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter if the soft lights of the driveway highlight the sharp angles of his face or the way his woodsy cologne has infiltrated your senses.

“Weird, you’re acting like my boyfriend or something.”

The silence that ensues is deafening. Your brain takes forever to catch up with you, but then you’re suddenly struck with humiliation and dread. You mind starts to race, as best as it could, when you realize that you may have just royally messed up the best job you’ve ever had and the best group of people you’ve ever met.

Before you can backtrack and say that you were just joking, Hotch carefully says “Do you want me to be?”

“What?” Wow, you really can’t hold your alcohol well, why did you drink so much wine?

And then Hotch is stepping closer, into your space, and you’d be worried that the rest of the team was going to see if the car door wasn’t shielding you from view from the front of the house. You get a whiff of whiskey on his breath again, but when you meet his eyes, there’s not a hint of the same full body dizziness you feel.

“Was I not being direct enough?” There’s amusement sparkling in his eyes, eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s politely trying to hide a fond smile. He’s teasing you.

This Hotch is the one you’ve grown to become familiar with over the past several months. Charming and unafraid to tease you when you’re away from prying eyes. Hotch is a private person, always has been, so it’s not a surprise that him essentially torturing you tonight was his version of being direct.

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

Hotch ducks his head bashfully to chuckle. It’s ridiculously endearing and you want to tug him closer and touch him all over. “I’ve been trying to flirt with you all month so I’m guessing I didn’t do a very good job.”

You stare at him as if he grew a second head, suddenly feeling much more sobered up than 5 minutes ago. Clarity sluggishly comes to you. The various invitations to spend the night or go out to dinner without Jack comes to mind. The touching had steadily increased, but you had assumed it was just due to Hotch getting more comfortable around you.

For a profiler, you weren’t very good at noticing what was happening right in front of you.

Hotch may be a ridiculously patient person, clearly since he’s been content to flirt with you for apparently a month while you didn’t notice, but you were not. You knew what you wanted. The wine still thrumming through your veins just gave you that little extra push.

You place your palms on his chest, relishing in the subtle firmness you can detect through his shirt, and you wonder if that’s his heart you feel thumping erratically or your own. “I promise I’m not that drunk and am fully aware of what is going on right now.”

Hotch hums and places his hands on your hips, the heat of him searing through the fabric of your dress. His eyes briefly flit to your mouth before back up at you. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

Instead of providing a snarky response, and because you know Hotch wouldn’t make the first move since you did have some to drink, you finally lean in to close the distance between you two to kiss him.

It’s soft, chaste in a way that makes you feel pleasantly warm all over, the barest tendrils of electricity tugging at the pit of your stomach. The intensity of how much you like him, how much you adore him, nearly barrels you over, but Hotch’s grip on you tightens, steadying you. His lips only slightly move against yours, as if briefly testing the waters, but it does nothing to quell the sudden desire slowly twisting inside of you.

When he pulls back, chest only marginally heaving, you instinctively chase after him. He chuckles again, low and comforting, as his hands come up to hold you still by the shoulders. It shouldn’t feel as nice and soothing as it does. “I should take you home.”

“Are you coming with me?” You sincerely hope that Hotch doesn’t question you and your boldness tomorrow. Again, not entirely your fault.

“I’ll walk you to your door, how about that?” As if he already wasn’t going to do that.

On the drive back to your apartment, the tight ball of panic and uncertainty in your chest quickly unfurls and is replaced by affection, tenderness, and promises of the future. Hotch’s hand, large and protective, doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way home.

You make a mental note to send Derek a gift card and thank you note on Monday.

[little-fae-hero]

Linked Universe, The Hero of Legend

My headcanons/aus

Art by Atro

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut, warning for slightly dark topics. (Note: I may add stuff over time, but nothing will be deleted from the list)

Twilight. Wind. Time. Hyrule. Four. Sky. War. Wild.

Legend (A link to the past, Link’s awakening, oracle ages & seasons, A link between worlds). Other nicknames: The veteran, grumpy pants, Mr. Hero, Hylia’s bastard, Zelda’s Twin.

Hero’s title: Hero of the past, Hero of Koholint, Hero of the Oracles, Hero of Holodrum, Hero of Labrynna, Hero of Lorule.

God that has claim over his soul: Hylia

Part of First’s soul: Caution

History:

The first adventure was a Link to the past, after defeating Ganon it was revealed to Link that he was not only Zelda’s twin but the biological child of Hylia, the golden goddess. Link didn’t want to believe it so he hopped on a ship and left, leading him to koholint. The wind fish picked Legend for his divine blood to help wake him.

Both saving the orcales came from Link not wanting to be home, however after the second one he was convinced bad stuff would happen where he went so he opted to go home and retire.

Later, hyrule was attacked leaving Link alone to rescue it. He also meets a mysterious merchant called Ravio who basically becomes his roommate. It’s revealed Ravio and his sister, Hilda are Link and Zelda counterparts with their mother being a goddess, the Lorule version of Hylia. The humans of that world wanted to get rid of their triforce, basically destroying and corrupting the gods that once protected them.

Link uses the triforce and wishes for their triforce back, saving Lorule. Originally they destroyed their ability to travel between worlds. However, both Link and Ravio wishing for the other plus their demigod blood allows Ravio to travel back to Hyrule. Link tried to avoid doing another big adventure after that, just helping people like you should before he ripped away to LU. 

Death: Unknown….

Interest stuff/Headcanons:

Being a demigod is stained on Legend’s body, mostly by his hair which will flow like water when magic is used or high emotions, or faint tattoos that cover his face and body.

All gods have those tattoos when posing as humans, hence why their children have them. However, most are so faint, only about a shade lighter than their skin tone that they are unnoticeable unless in the right light. But they glow when their natural magic is used.

Because of this, Legend refuses to use any of his natural magic, often relying on magical items and jewelry, playing himself off as a lucky adventurer.

He loves jewelry also because of how shiny it is.

The mermaid tail he can get was because of his mother, as one of her domains is water.

Because of the Mermaid tail thing, he can’t really wear pants sense there's a risk of them being destroyed if he hits water.

Legend despises being Hylia’s son and technically a prince, especially since most see male children of the royal family as a curse waiting to happen.

Legend really loved Koholint, he wasn’t a demigod, he didn’t have any weird powers or random quest. It was so bad that if it wasn’t for his mother’s blessing he likely would have drowned.

The only reason Legend woke the Windfish and broke the pocket realm that he came to love was because of Marin.

Koholint was a pocket realm, populated by people that was close enough to the Windfish resting place. Legend doesn’t know this and spent his next couple of adventures looking for Marin, as he physically had some items given to him by her.

Because of Marin he actually uses what little magic leaks out around him and grows the flowers she kept in her hair, always keeping one on him. 

You can follow Legend’s path with ease as the flowers mark where he has rested.

He can play any instrument you hand him.

Legend form in dark areas, a pink rabbit, because rabbits are one his mother animals. He despises this of course.

Legend normally is very untrusting after his first two adventures, however something about Ravio made the hero trust him.

Ravio looks exactly like him, same weird faint markings, same face, same body. It’s just the colors that are wrong.

Legend keeps everything from his adventures with the mentality of ‘I rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.’

Because of his mother, Legend picks up on languages and puzzles very easily. It only takes him about a week in a new area before he can speak and read it.

Despite having the Triforce of Courage, Legend’s counterpart Ravio, actually has the Lorule Triforce of Wisdom.

All his adventures have him plagued by nightmares; Legend has to use a bit of magic to get a restful sleep.  

He’s good at finding maps and keys, as well as places to eat.

While it’s really hard to poison him, he can still taste the food. So could he eat rotten food, yes, will he? no.

Legend has joint pain, mainly from refusing to use his magic to heal wounds and waiting until he had potion or fairies, the time left its mark.

He has a soft spot for rabbits and seagulls. 

Legend is the one who gave Hyrule his first sword. After his death is spirit remained trying to save Hyrule, and ending up looking after the hero as a merchant.

---

Legend is done, let me know you thoughts.

[brawberryz]

you look so pathetic...i want you

Batboys × Loser nerd! Reader

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Jason Todd

Richard had convinced him to go on a blind date, at first he refused

But apparently Richard didn't understand the meaning of the word 'No' and he kept insisting on it all fucking week

He decided to accept just because he had nothing to do (plus he could get rid of that idiot brother)

He thought he would meet the usual girls, most likely he would just talk to her for a while and then leave

He was very surprised when he saw you entering the restaurant agitated 20 minutes late

God, you are the human representation of the fucking nerd emoji, you looked like you came out of an 80s movie

You are literally the representation of the word loser and nerd

"Hi..."

You said embarrassed as you sat at the table in front of him, you adjusted your glasses nervously

Your clothes and hair were a mess as if you had run a marathon to

"Hi"

He waved back, god he didn't think it was going to be this awkward

You and him didn't say anything for the next 20 minutes

"So... you like fnaf?"

"What?"

Jason was surprised by your question, it wasn't the best way to break the ice but it did the trick

At some point he felt like laughing, it was the first date and all you did was talk about a game.

"Although if you don't like it I can also talk about undertale or minecraft"

It was almost funny how you spent the whole date talking about indie games, comics and movies.

He just looked at you with a small smile nodding briefly, you were too focused talking about whatever you were talking about.

But he liked the sparkle and excitement in your eyes every time you talked about one of your weird tastes.

you were a complete loser

You were clearly he type

Richard Grayson

He had met you a few weeks ago, you were the kind librarian who helped him every day when he went to get a book

If he was honest he didn't read any of the books he brought from the library he only went there to see your cute face

After several failed flirtations and denied dates you decided to give him a chance

You couldn't say no to those little puppy eyes he gave you

The date had gone wonderfully and you timidly invited him to your apartment

And it was an offer that Richard couldn't refuse

The night was great, they watched some movies and spent too much time with you since when he saw the time it was too late

He told you it was time to leave but you insisted that he stay arguing that it was too late and your neighborhood was very dangerous

So just to please you he decided to stay, he was Nightwing some small time criminals weren't going to even scratch him but he still stayed with you

When you went to get blankets and pillows so he could sleep more comfortably in the guest room he decided to follow you

His surprise was great when he saw your room full of posters, manga and anime figures and other series and games

You are a big fan of many things

You saw his surprised face when he saw your room and you thought he was about to make fun of you, it was not going to be the first time someone made fun of you

You were a complete nerd and loser you were the easy target for someone to make fun of

"Sorry for the mess and everything else..."

You said embarrassed as you handed him some blankets and pillows

He just nodded with a small smile on his face

"It doesn't matter, the truth is if I'm honest I think it's pretty cool"

Those words caused a small blush on your cheeks, it was the first time someone said something good about you

He said good night to you before leaving for the guest room

That night you could barely sleep since you spent it thinking In Richard's words

he thought your tastes were cool?

Those simple words triggered something in you that you couldn't even explain

Tim Drake

Tim was a nerd, it was quite obvious and it bothered him to admit it

But his new teammate surpassed what the word nerd and loser was

The first time Bruce introduced you to him so that Tim could team up with you he could see how you became a nervous wreck

He could swear that under your gloves your hands were completely sweaty

You were a little strange, you hardly spoke but it's not like it bothered him, besides you were pretty good at fighting and solving cases

But every time he spoke to you it seemed like your brain went into automatic mode and you responded in a robotic way

But he simply didn't pay much attention to it because it wasn't even his problem

Although he wouldn't lie, sometimes you could be quite strange

He was writing another case that you were working on, this one was much more difficult than all the others and he felt that you and him would stay up all night

There was a long silence between you two, not It was awkward but you could tell you wanted to talk but your words wouldn't come out of your mouth

"Sooooo, do you like Star Wars?"

You said suddenly looking at him, he could feel your nervous gaze piercing the back of his neck

"I saw it once with my brothers"

Tim really wasn't very interested in the conversation, although he was a little surprised since it was the first time you started a conversation with him yourself

"Oh, and you liked it?"

"I kind of didn't understand much of the plot"

That was the sign you apparently needed

During the entire time you were with him in the batcave you spent time explaining the story and interesting facts about the movie

He just nodded at your words, it was the first time he saw you so focused talking about a topic, most of the time you were quiet

Although he didn't complain, your voice was quite comforting to listen to

You were quite cute when you talked about something you liked, he could see the way your voice changed to a more enthusiastic one every time you mentioned something you liked

You were a complete nerd and loser and he liked that about you

It's my first time writing romance but I think it came out pretty well, I think

Well, I just wanted to let you know that my requests are open in case anyone has any requests 🗣

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

[steddiehyperfixation]

with blonde hair and a tan

steddie brainworms so bad i wrote this silly little thing immediately after watching the rocky horror picture show for the first time the other night lol @steddie-spooktober day 30: "where in the hell did you find that costume?" | 1083 words | T |

Eddie can hear Steve and Robin squabbling as he makes his way up the stairs to Steve's room. 

“I just don't know about this, Rob.” 

“It was your idea!” 

“It's too much. I should wear something else.” 

“Little late for that now.” 

“Well-”

“Where in the hell did you find that costume?” Eddie stops in the doorway, frozen in a state of shock at the scene in front of him. His mouth hangs open, eyes wide, and a sudden heat rises in his cheeks. 

Because Steve is standing in front of his mirror wearing only a tiny metallic gold speedo and matching gold boots, his great expanse of tanned skin and muscles and body hair on full display. Robin stands next to him with a spray can of wash out bleach-blonde hair dye at the ready. 

Steve looks over at Eddie. “It's too much, isn't it? I knew it. I told you,” he says to Robin, gesturing at Eddie as if his reaction proves his point. “Look at his face, even he's embarrassed for me.” 

Robin snorts. “Yeah, I don't think that's why he's blushing, Steve-o.” 

“No one’s even gonna know who I am,” Steve continues to complain, thankfully ignoring Robin’s comment. 

“Rocky,” Eddie says. His voice comes out weird and cracked; he clears his throat. “You're Rocky, from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” 

“See?” Now it's Robin’s turn to gesture towards Eddie in vindication. “Totally recognizable. Totally good. It's just one party, and you've got all that unwarranted jock confidence, you'll be fine.” She pats Steve on the shoulder, then turns and tosses the spray dye at Eddie. “Here. You can take over spraying his hair. I have to finish getting myself ready.” 

Eddie fumbles trying to catch the spray can, his attempt to stammer out a protest falling on deaf ears as Robin pushes past him out of the room. “Okay.” He sighs. This is fine. He can totally handle being left alone with this literal golden adonis without getting heart palpitations. He can be cool and chill and normal. He can. 

Steve looks amused. “You don't have to. I can probably manage spraying my own hair just fine,” he says when Eddie still hasn't moved. 

“No, I got it.” Eddie shakes his head, shaking himself into motion. “You won't be able to get the back right on your own anyways.” He approaches Steve - with great restraint, he might add, because there's a part of his brain that's all animal right now and it's just raring to pounce on him. “So are you done trying to talk yourself out of this costume, then?” 

Steve chews at his lip as he studies his reflection again. “I think so,” he decides. His gaze flicks up to meet Eddie's eyes in the mirror. “You really don't think it's too much?” 

Eddie breaks the mirror eye contact before his face can turn any more red, fixing his focus singularly on starting to spray the blonde dye onto Steve's hair. “No, you uh, you look good. You really should've warned me- told me, I mean, what you were gonna be. I would've matched your theme, could've gone as Dr. Frank N Furter.” (His current costume in comparison is quite boring, just a basic vampire - albeit with some pretty impressive fake blood around his mouth if he does say so himself, but ultimately nothing special.)

“Now that would be something,” Steve mutters, the words a little breathier all of the sudden, but Eddie still doesn't dare let his glance wander from his hair. His voice is back to normal in a second anyway. “Well, there's always next year.” 

“Yeah, next year,” Eddie echoes. That really would be something, both of them in flamboyantly skimpy costumes. He's not sure if that would make this situation better or worse for him. 

He pushes up some of Steve's hair to make sure he's covered all the layers in the back, his fingers accidentally brushing along the skin of his neck, and Steve shivers. Eddie finds himself watching with an odd satisfaction as the goosebumps ripple up in the wake of his touch. 

“I think I might freeze to death like this, though,” Steve comments with a self-deprecating chuckle that just barely conceals that weird breathiness that's returned to his voice. “I probably should've considered that before I decided to go out half naked at night in the middle of fall.” 

“I bet you could easily find someone to keep you warm tonight,” Eddie tells him, forcing detachment. He locks his attention back on his hair dyeing work. “You walk in there looking like this and you'll have all the girls at the party falling at your feet. Probably even some of the guys too,” he adds, remembering Steve recently came out as bisexual. 

“Yeah?” Steve sounds like he's smiling, or maybe smirking. He tries (unsuccessfully) to catch Eddie's eyes again as Eddie moves in front of him to get to the last few pieces of hair. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Would you be one of them?” 

Eddie finishes with the hairspray, nothing left to keep using as an excuse to avoid his attention. He finally looks at Steve's face and raises an eyebrow, deflecting. “You want me to fall at your feet, Harrington?” 

Steve shakes his head almost imperceptibly. He glances down for a moment, then looks back up at him from under his lashes and takes a step closer. “I want you to keep me warm,” he clarifies in a murmur as he reaches for Eddie's free hand and guides it to hold his waist. Eddie's blood ignites at the touch and the look Steve's giving him, flames racing along his veins. 

That's as good an invitation as any, and Eddie's restraint shatters. He draws Steve hungrily to his lips. How could he not? The spray can falls from his grip in favor of using both hands to pull Steve closer and roam his body. And if Eddie's wandering hands linger for a while in their investigation of that perfect gold-clad ass, well that's between them and the lovely little sound Steve makes against his open mouth. 

And Robin, who has the misfortune of poking her head back into the room right then. 

She yelps and jumps out of view of the scene, banging her fist against the wall just next to the doorway to get their attention instead. “When you guys are done being gross,” she shouts, “there's a party we're gonna be late for!” 

[smileysuh]

ghost house

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric. It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh. Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties. You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

tw/cw. Voyeurism, unprotected sex with a ghost, Hyuck is a repressed perv, he’s not a virgin but he’s not experienced either, pantie sniffer Hyuck, Hyuck watching y/n masturbate using ghost powers, Hyuck using y/n’s panties to cum in, weird ghost cum, Hyuck is a switch but leans more submissive at parts, self asphyxiation/choking, y/n punishes Hyuck for being a naughty ghostie, making Hyuck watch her masturbate without touching himself, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk/addict hyuck, overstimulation, hair pulling, hyuck cums and y/n decides to keep riding him, hyuck likes to be choked, dirty talk, hyuck has a good boy kink, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, finger sucking, face riding, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (Haechan’s) ghostie, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.3k

🍭 aus. ghost!hyuck, witch!reader, supernatural au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've never written Hyuck this subby/switchy, but I think it worked, he still has his dom moments, but this man is a near virgin, little, repressed for 20 years ghost shit head who wants to be told he's a good boy, and I'm not even mad about it

Prologue:

“It’s a little unusual for prospective tenants to bring a pet along,” the shy man showing you the house murmurs, watching the way your cat follows you through the halls of the old building.

“Well, it’s important that Pluto likes it here,” you muse, casting your gaze down to your little dark shadow as he darts here and there, chasing orbs and specks of dust that illuminate in the rays of sun streaming through the murky windows. “How long has it been since you had a renter?”

“Too long,” Mark Lee sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “In all honesty, I’m sure you know the reputation this place has.”

“It’s the Ghost House,” you respond, turning to stare at the relative of a man who’d lost his life in this location twenty or so years ago. 

“My family hasn’t even tried to rent it out in recent years, but then you found me on Facebook and asked for a showing, I figured, what could it hurt?”

“I guess you don’t believe that this place is haunted?” you inquire, studying the tired, mundane man while Pluto curls around your feet.

“I haven’t spent enough time here to decide what I think,” Mark admits. “My family needs income, and if you’re willing to rent this place out, for half of what you could find anywhere else, we’d love for you to take it. Ghosts, or no ghosts.”

“I’m betting on the ghost aspect,” you tease, looking down at Pluto and following his gaze to a shadowy form at the end of the hall. “I’ll take it.”

One

You’ve been in your new Ghost House for over a month, and in that time, Hyuck has realized you’re no ordinary tenant.

It had started with the way your cat reacted to him, following him around, not scared in the slightest. And then, Hyuck had noticed the way you’d tracked your black cat Pluto with your own eyes, using the animal to try to focus in on Hyuck himself.

At first, he’d thought you were some sort of clairvoyant or wanna-be ghost hunter, but then, you’d pulled out a Grimoire and a cauldron and Hyuck had realized you were more along the lines of a witch. 

When you’d first moved in, Hyuck had relished the idea of haunting you out of the house, but now he finds himself to be the one that’s haunted.

He can’t get a moment's peace without your cat following him all over the place, and where your cat goes, you quickly follow. Hyuck has taken to going to the attic, where the door can’t be pushed open by a determined kitty. He fucking hates the attic.

He’s sitting amidst some cobwebs, contemplating how badly he’d fucked up in life to get to this situation, when the attic door creaks on its hinges.

Your head pops through the hole. Your gaze shifts around, and Hyuck could swear your irises look exceptionally feline-esque when they land on him. “Why are you hiding?”

You can’t actually be talking to him. You can’t actually be seeing him- it shouldn’t be possible, and yet, here it is, happening.

“Come now, Donghyuck, are you skulking?”

“Fuck off,” he mutters.

“Is that any way to speak to a witch who’s here to help you?” you laugh.

You’d definitely heard him, and the realization makes a cold shiver run up his spine. Hyuck stands up, approaching you. He waits for you to flinch or pull away, but you don’t, you simply watch him until he’s a few feet away.

“How are you seeing me right now?” he asks.

“I’ve been testing out spells with personal objects of yours that I’ve stumbled upon in the house, nothing works quite like a photo, I’ve found,” you explain. “It’s good to finally see you. I’d hoped to meet you properly within the first week, but it’s been a whole month now of us living together, which feels awfully rude of me.”

“What’s rude is your stupid cat following me around everywhere.” When Hyuck takes a peek down the attic entry manhole, he finds your feline friend at the foot of the ladder, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes.

“Pluto is just doing his job, he was raised to see spirits. The Roman God of the Dead is his namesake after all.”

“The Roman God of the Dead?” Hyuck’s nose scrunches up in distaste. He flunked grade twelve, not that Roman deities were on the learning agenda.

“Forget about it, would you like to come down and talk with me for a while? Now that I can see you and communicate, I think we should have a chat.” You study him carefully. “Although, I will note that until I find a better spell, I’ll only be able to see you like this until your photo stops burning, which could be ten minutes or twenty.”

The pathological demand avoidance in Hyuck makes him want to refuse you, but at the same time, he hasn’t spoken to anyone in over twenty years, not since that night when everything had gone so wrong- 

It helps that you’re a cute girl.

With a sigh, Hyuck agrees, following you down to the living room where he finds a makeshift alter, his picture in the center of it, its edges charred. The space smells like some sort of incense, Hyuck can’t pin it, and for the first time in twenty years, Hyuck actually feels something akin to fear.

As the Ghost of the House, Hyuck has always been the one with the power. He’s been the one who scared off the first few tenants with knocks late at night, phone calls in the early hours, and even wearing a sheet to scare off the children young enough to be susceptible to seeing him.

But in this situation, sitting on the nicest chair in the room, your cat lounging on your lap, Hyuck realizes that the power of a ghost is no match to that of a witch. You look like a Goddess, or a queen- energy radiating off of you now that you’re near your alter, and it makes Hyuck’s skin tingle.

“So?” Hyuck asks after sitting in uncomfortable silence for what felt like ages.

“So?” you echo, quirking a brow.

“Why are you here?” he clarifies with a huff of frustration. “Why are you trying so hard to communicate with me?”

“I’m mostly here because the rent is less than half of what I could get anywhere else, and it’s a whole house, so that felt like a no-brainer in this economy,” you laugh. “Although, seeing as you’ve been dead for over twenty years, I’m not going to give you a lesson on rent increase and the cost of living in this day and age. As a witch, I thought this would be a very interesting house to live in, and I’ve been trying to communicate with you, because the way I see it, you’re practically my roommate. We share this house, and I’d like for things to go smoothly.”

“Smoothly,” Hyuck lets out a laugh.

“If you’d rather I exhume your remains and send you to Hell, that can be arranged too.” 

Hyuck feels his throat go dry. 

“That’s what I thought,” you grin. “So what do you say, roommates?”

“Fine. But I’m tired of the attic.”

“You put yourself there,” you point out.

“Look, you be nice to me, I be nice to you,” Hyuck suggests. “Fair?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Ghost boy.”

Two 

Living with you actually isn’t so bad. Hyuck’s gotten used to Pluto following him around, but you generally keep to yourself, and he appreciates that trait.

Sure, you get up to witch mojo, and the house smells like all sorts of herbs and shit half the time, but Hyuck has taken to living mostly in the room that used to be his own. He prefers the south-facing space to the dark attic, and although life is boring most of the time, it’s still better than whatever afterlife Hyuck could expect as a man who accidentally took his own life at the ripe age of twenty-three.

Sometimes he likes to come see what you’re up to. He’s taken to watching you cook breakfast and dinner for yourself. You play music he’s never heard before, and the way you shake your hips always has his heart racing.

Pluto notifies you of his presence, but without an alter burning, he’s pretty sure you can only see his outline at best. You clearly don’t mind an audience, and Hyuck spends hours every week simply enjoying you.

It’s interesting to have a roommate that acknowledges him, a roommate that keeps the peace. But at the same time, part of Hyuck misses his old poltergeist ways.

You’ve reformed him. He’s a reformed ghost now, and Hyuck isn’t quite sure what to make of this peaceful living arrangement. It’s much more peaceful than things had been when he’d been alive.

He’d never had a girlfriend. Never had someone to create a sense of belonging, and somehow, he finds that much-needed peace with you. He wonders what life could have been like if he hadn’t taken those drugs that fateful night, if he hadn’t been so lonely that it hurt everywhere, if he hadn’t tried to dull the ache with pills.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” your voice draws him out of his pining thoughts, and you turn from the soup you’re making to stare in his general direction. “I can see your outline, dance with me. You always just stand there and stare, be a good Ghostie Boy, and shake your ass a little.”

Your words make Hyuck’s skin heat. He’s a ghost for Christ's sake, you can't go around objectifying him like this-

“Just a lil swivel,” you grin, showing him with your own hips.

Fuck. You’re hot. You’re so fucking hot, and Hyuck is tired of pretending you’re not. 

He begins to shimmy, and he’s rewarded by a melodic giggle that escapes you and fills the kitchen. “That’s it,” you encourage him. “I know you’re not used to this kind of music, but it’s fun!”

Hyuck has to admit that he’s been enjoying the crash course in new media you’ve been giving him. From music to movies to books he haphazardly reads over your shoulders- this new age is something else, and it’s full of uncensored raunchy sex that makes him hornier than he’d ever been when he was alive.

The music you’re listening to is full of explicit lyrics, lyrics about eating pussy, and a pretty girl riding a man’s face- it’s been driving him wild, and in the late night hours, when you’re peacefully asleep one room over, Hyuck hasn’t been able to help himself.

He’s been stroking himself to the thought of you lately. He’s wondered what you’d taste like, what your body would feel like under his hands- He wonders what faces you’d make, the sounds-

This life is a little bit of Heaven, but a little bit of Hell too. 

He can’t touch you, can’t taste you, can’t fuck you the way he’s been wanting to-

Leave it to him to fall in love with a sexy witch and add to his own torment. 

Three 

Hyuck can hear your whimpers through the wall. The sound makes his entire body tingle, and before he can stop himself, he’s shrugging his jeans down and wrapping his hand around his aching cock.

Your sex drive hasn’t been as… intense as his, in fact, he’s not sure if you’ve ever touched yourself since you moved in. Or maybe, you’ve just been quiet, it’s hard to tell.

When you’re in your room, Hyuck gives you privacy. Pluto would probably alert you to his presence if he ever did try to get a look at you naked, and Hyuck doesn’t want to risk your witchy wrath.

But tonight? Fuck, hearing your sounds makes him want to risk everything.

Going to Hell would be worth it for a look at your form.

The ghost shuffles closer to the wall, taking deep breaths as he strokes his aching cock. 

One peak won’t hurt, will it?

Hyuck doesn’t often walk through walls or make use of his ghostly powers, but it’s simple enough for him to push his head through the wall. He just goes as far as his face, keeping himself half-suspended in the barrier between rooms.

Your space is dark aside from a few candles burning, and it takes Hyuck a moment for his eyes to adjust. His gaze lands on you, tangled amidst your bedsheets.

You’re naked, head dipped back against the pillows, one hand between your thighs while the other pinches at your nipples.

Fuck, Hyuck almost busts then and there. He has to stop the motions on his cock, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Pluto is nowhere to be seen, and with your eyes closed, the room mostly dark, Hyuck doubts you’d see his outline even if you did look directly at the one space along your wall that he’s watching from.

This is the perfect scenario for him, and he licks his lips as he watches the way you tease your clit, letting out soft whimpers.

You’re wet, Hyuck can see how wet you are, and it makes his mouth water with need. His cock throbs as he begins to slowly stroke it again, teasing his thumb along the tip.

The way you’re pinching at your nipples is making the ghost want to mark you up with his teeth. He wants to bury his face in your chest and lick you, sucking your perky-looking buds until you’re begging for him-

A movement of your other hand captures his attention, and Hyuck watches as you slide one finger into your core, releasing a moan that has his entire body shaking.

One digit quickly becomes two, and as you stroke your inner walls, the sound of your wet heat becomes audible to the fly on the wall, who pumps his shaft even harder. 

Your hips begin to wiggle against your own touch, and Hyuck wonders how good you’d look on top of him, writhing against his cock-

You release your breast in favor of playing with your clit, both hands now between your beautiful thighs. From the sounds escaping you, Hyuck thinks you’re close, and his entire body aches. He tries to slow himself down, he wants to match your speed, wants to reach that climax with you-

Something brushes by Hyuck’s leg and he jumps, tearing himself out of your room to look down at the cat who’s appeared by his foot. “Fuck, not now, Pluto,” he hisses.

Pluto purs in response, and with an exasperated sigh, Hyuck decides to ignore your cat. Fuck it, he needs to cum, and he needs to be watching you cum-

Pushing his face back into your room, Hyuck manages to catch you just in time to see your back arch. A soft gasp of contentment leaves your lips, your hands shaking as your orgasm rushes over you-

Hyuck can’t help himself, his own body simply reacts, his cock throbbing intensely as his own release hits him. He bites down on his lip, pumping his shaft with his eyes glued to your form.

You ride out your orgasms together, and yet, apart. 

You’re a scary witch, but you’re none the wiser about the ghost voyeur committing every one of your movements to memory. 

Finally, Hyuck can’t take the sensation anymore, and he stops, pulling his head out of your room. He’s no stranger to ghost cum, it’s this odd, translucent goo-

When he looks down after pulling up his pants, Hyuck realizes he’s sprayed the wall, and narrowly missed Pluto, but the cat is looking at his spunk as if he can see it-

Hyuck’s never had an animal in the house before. He knows that usually, his ghost jizz disappears after a while, but if the cat were to try to touch it-

“Pluto, no!” Hyuck whispers, trying to block the animal with his hands.

The cat has brushed by Hyuck before, so Hyuck’s pretty sure the cat won’t go through his hands-

Instead, Pluto tries to go around Hyuck’s hands, and the ghost’s heart lurches in his cold chest.

“Fuck, stop!” he says, voice getting louder. 

The cat meows obnoxiously, and Hyuck hears a sound in your room-

Hyuck doesn’t have time for this, he’s not about to get caught one room over after you’ve just orgasmed. The ghost does the only thing he can think of doing, he jumps down to the ground to hide behind the bed. 

Luckily, Pluto seems more interested in him than his ghost cum on the wall, and begins to follow. The bedroom door is pushed open, drawing Pluto’s attention from following Hyuck.

“Pluto?” you call. “What are you doing in here?”

Hyuck can feel his heart in his throat, and he cowers further under the bed, afraid that if you see any of his shadowy figure, you’ll exorcize him or something. 

There’s a few moments of tight tension, and then Pluto pads away from Hyuck to join you at the door.

“Silly kitty,” you coo, picking up your pet. “Let’s go make you some dinner.”

The door closes behind you and Hyuck lets out a deep breath.

That had been much too close for him.

Four 

It’s been about a week since Hyuck watched you finger fuck yourself to completion, and he’s doing his best to avoid you. He gets a half-chub every time he looks at you for Christ’s sake, and while part of him feels justified in his voyeurism - he is a ghost after all - another part of him feels dirty about it. 

Hyuck feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders every time you leave the house, and today, he watches you get into your car and drive off before he heads to your room. He’s been curious about a few things, but you hardly ever leave the property, so he hasn’t had the time and the balls to follow his wishes until now.

Your bedroom door is closed, and it’s as easy as stepping through it for Hyuck to invade your space.

He tries to calm himself, tries to take his time looking at items you’ve collected. There’s a stack of books that thrum with power, he stays away from them. Jewels and crystals litter a vanity table also covered in various perfume bottles, and Hyuck bends down to smell one, overcome by the scent of florals that always follows you through the house. Lastly, Hyuck goes over to the laundry hamper. 

The ghost is overjoyed by what greets him. Sitting on top of a pile of sweaters, is a lacy thong. Hyuck sinks to his knees, bending over the hamper and bringing his nose as close to the panties as possible. He takes a deep breath, eyes closing as the scent overwhelms him: this is so much better than florals.

Now he really feels dirty, but there’s something so freeing in it. He’s a dirty little ghostie, and Hyuck is beginning to revel in it. 

He’s been a spirit for so many years, and he’s gotten adept at poltergeist-type activity. Sure, he’s usually only ever used it to throw books around, or open cupboards, or… you know, wear bedsheets to scare the shit out of the kids who show up and trespass around Halloween, but… grabbing a pair of panties shouldn’t be that hard. 

With a shaky hand, Hyuck reaches into the hamper. He focuses his energy to his fingertips, and after a deep breath, when he touches your panties, he can feel the lace. Hyuck lifts the fabric out of the hamper, collapsing onto his knees next to it and shimmying his pants down.

Then, he wraps his panty-clad hand around his cock, throwing his head back to let out a sigh of relief. There’s something so sexy about jacking off using your underwear as friction- there’s a small, juicy spot along the fabric, and Hyuck’s majorly tempted to lick at it, but he feels like that’s a line he shouldn’t cross. 

Instead, he pumps his cock harder, letting out soft whimpers. Hyuck’s head lolls forward again, chin tucked down to his chest. His eyes open so he can stare at your cute panties as he strokes himself off with them, and the sight alone has his dick twitching. 

Hyuck grits his teeth, his abdominal muscles flexing with effort. He can’t help but rut toward his hand now, and each stroke of your lacey thong against his aching cock has him closer and closer-

There’s a sound downstairs, and it makes Hyuck’s heart leap in his chest. You’re home again already?

He tightens his grip on his length, determined to cum before he gets caught. He can’t stop now, not when he’s so close to a much-needed release- 

As the sound of you coming up the stairs limits his time more and more, the idea of getting caught actually adds to Hyuck’s pleasure. Before he knows what he’s doing, one of Hyuck’s hands is raising to his throat. He throws his head back, applying just a bit of pressure- it’s enough to have him grunting, the cord in his stomach snapping as his orgasm takes over.

Waves of pleasure wash through his entire body, his grip tightening on his throat and making it all the more intense. He can feel his spunk shooting onto your panties, which he holds over his tip as he pumps his aching cock, getting out every last drop-

He can hear you humming as you come down the hall, and in Hyuck’s post-orgasmic haze, he doesn’t have time to think. He simply drops your panties on the floor and stumbles to his feet, stepping through the wall just as your door opens.

He collapses again in the other room, pulling up his pants and trying to catch his breath.

Five 

It had been a quick run to get cat food for Pluto, and when you arrive back at your room, you hardly even notice that something is out of place. First, you open your blinds, peaking out at the evening setting sun. Then you go to sit on your bed to take off your socks, as you’re about to toss them to your hamper, you notice something on the floor.

It’s a pair of your lacy panties, and you’re a hundred percent sure they hadn’t been on the floor when you’d left.

With your bedroom door closed, Pluto couldn’t have gotten into your things, which leaves one culprit.

Hyuck.

You’ve suspected the ghost has had a growing crush on you for a while, after all, he is a man who’s been alone in this house for years, but this is your first real evidence of it.

You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric.

It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh.

Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties.

You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

For a moment, you simply stare at your panties, and then, you decide to do something about it. Going to your Grimoire, you open to a page bookmarked by multiple photos. They’re pictures of Hyuck that you’d found in the attic. You’d saved them for a rainy day when you’d need to contact him with a full-body apparition again, and it looks like today is the day.

Grabbing the largest one, you take the photo and your Grimoire down to the alter in the living room. While you have an alter of sorts in your bedroom, the one powered by the direct sun on your table by the south-facing window is the most appropriate for something like this.

You make quick work of a spell to bind the ghost to the waking world, and with a last few sprinkles of spices and some dried herbs, you place the photo in the center, using a lighter along the bottom edge.

“Hyuck?” you call, turning toward the room. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

You hear someone whisper, “Fuck,” and you turn to see Hyuck scampering toward the staircase. 

“Are you seriously going to make me chase you?”

“Don’t exorcize me!” he screams, taking the stairs two at a time.

His words make you laugh. “I have a different type of exercise planned,” you retort, but it doesn’t do anything to slow him down. “Seriously, Hyuck, calm down!”

You make it to the second level, and you know where he’s snuck into. He may have closed the door quietly, but you’ve lived with the ghost long enough to know which room he’s staked a claim over.

Taking an amused breath, you knock gently. “Hyuck,” you sing-song, “I’m not mad. Just let me in.”

“You’re gonna exorcize me.”

You sigh again. “Hyuck, open this door, right now.”

You hate to use your dommy-mommy voice on him, but he’s trying your patience, and you only have as long as it takes for his photo to burn, which, due to your magic, probably gives you about half an hour, give or take.

“If you do not open this door, I will open it for you, and your punishment will be worse,” you warn him.

A moment later, the door creaks open ajar, and you push it the rest of the way.

“I’m sorry,” Hyuck tells you, standing there with his shoulders hunched.

“For what?” you enquire, leaning on the frame and crossing your arms over your chest.

“For running.”

“And?” you prompt.

“For uh…” you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, bowing his head, “for uh… using your panties.” 

“Using them how?” You’re kind of enjoying watching him like this. He might have his own weird kinks, but this might just be one of your own.

“Well, you know…” his skin is turning pink.

“I don’t know. I want you to tell me what you did with them. Don’t leave out a single detail you bad ghost boy.”

Hyuck’s gaze lifts to meet yours, but he’s quick to look away again. “Well, I mean, I was just looking at them at first.”

“At first. And then what?”

“Well, I just wanted to touch them.”

“Liar,” you scoff. “I bet you wrapped them around your cock and jerked off with them, didn’t you?”

Hyuck’s ears have turned pink now, and when his hands go in front of his body, you realize he’s trying to hide a half-chub that’s growing in his pants.

The little freak is into this.

God, he’s endearing. 

“Admit it,” you instruct. “If you admit it, I’ll go easy on you.”

Hyuck takes a breath. “Yes, I used your panties to cum.”

You study the ghost.

“Good boy,” you say finally. His eyes lift to meet yours, his lips parting. “Come to my room.”

You don’t wait for him to respond, you simply turn and expect him to follow. When you get to your room, you collapse onto the bed. 

“Close the door,” you instruct next. “Be a good boy and light my candles for me too.” 

As he begins to follow through with your commands, you stretch, letting out a sigh from the feeling of your tight muscles. Then, you lift off your shirt, tossing it at Hyuck while his back is to you, his fingers fumbling with a lighter.

Hyuck freezes, then turns to look at you.

“Have you watched me before, dirty ghostie?” you ask, going to remove your pants next.

The way he swallows tells you everything you need to know.

“Well, you are a bad, naughty, dirty, little ghostie, aren’t you, Hyuck?” you grin, tossing your jeans at him.

Laying in your bra and panties, you watch him finish lighting your candles, then he comes to stand at the foot of the bed, clearly waiting on instruction. He’s trying to cover the front of his pants again, and it makes you laugh.

“Move your hands,” you tell him. “You know, honestly, I’m a little surprised at how easy it was for you to get hard again. You came, what? Ten minutes ago? Fifteen?”

He’s so bashful he can hardly answer, and it’s an adorable sight.

“Here are the rules,” you say, “I’m going to make myself cum. After that, I’ll let you make me cum. And if you can get through all of that teasing without touching yourself, if you can prove to me you’re a good ghostie who can follow instructions, I’ll fuck you. How does that sound?”

Hyuck’s gaze watches your hand slip between your thighs, your legs opening wider, and he unconsciously licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay… mistress?”

You laugh at his attempt to please you. “I was looking for a thank you.”

“Right, yeah, thank you, I can follow instructions,” he fumbles to correct himself. 

“Then be a good boy and put your hands behind yourself. I don’t want you touching anything. Don’t want you covering anything either, got it?” Your words come out breathy as you begin to stroke your core through your panties. “I especially don’t want to see your hands all shaky, that’s just embarrassing, ghost boy.”

Why are you enjoying this so much? Why are you enjoying the degradation of a man who died over twenty years ago?

From Hyuck’s reactions it’s clear he’s never been spoken to like this. Sure, domination and submission were things back in the day, but there must be something about your specific 2020’s brand of degradation- 

Hyuck slots his hands behind his back, letting out a deep breath.

“Good boy,” you coo, pushing your panties to the side so you can touch your pussy directly. Teasing him like this has already made you extremely wet, and it’s easy for you to glide your digits up and down your soaked slit, drawing soft circles on your clit.

“Can you see from there, ghost boy?” you sigh, spreading your legs even wider.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I don’t like Mistress or Ma’am,” you admit.

“I’m sorry.”

If you got him to call you Goddess you’d risk hubris, so instead, you tell him, “Call me princess.”

You’d considered ‘Angel’ as a term of endearment, but with the deities you pay tribute to, even that had felt like a step too far. No, Princess works- You feel like a royal girlie who’s having fun with a servant boy, abusing the power you hold over him, for mutual benefit. 

“Okay, princess,” Hyuck breathes, and you can tell from his reaction that he enjoys the feeling of the word on his tongue. 

You like the sound of it coming from him too, and you throw your head back, getting more comfortable against the pillows. You tease one of your fingers into your wet hole, stroking your sensitive inner walls. 

Hyuck lets out a shaky gasp, and you grin to yourself, keeping your eyes closed so you can enjoy the sensation. Although that doesn’t stop you from saying in a sing-song voice, “You better not be touching yourself, ghost boy.”

“I’m not, princess, I promise.” 

“Good ghostie,” you coo slipping another finger into your pussy. You open your eyes to look at him. His gaze is fixed on your core, and he’s got his bottom lip pinned between his teeth. “Is it a nice view?”

“The best view in the whole world,” Hyuck breathes, almost panting.

“Should I make myself cum so you can finally touch me?” 

“Fuck, yes please, fuck, yes-” Hyuck’s eyes meet yours, and you see the desperation, it’s practically throbbing off of him in waves. “Please, princess, I wanna watch you cum.”

“You’re being such a good ghostie for me,” you muse, pulling your fingers from your core and holding them out for him, “Come here, have a taste.”

Hyuck falls onto his knees on the foot of your mattress, grabbing your hand with both of his and drawing your digits to his mouth. He sucks on them, his eyes fixed on yours as his tongue licks and strokes your skin, cleaning up every drop of your juices.

“Now back to your spot,” you prompt, pulling your hand away. “The moment I cum, you can join.”

You watch him swallow thickly, and while he doesn’t talk back, Hyuck is clearly reluctant to get back to his feet, standing at the edge of the bed and watching you.

His hands go behind his back, and when he’s in proper form, you slowly slip your panties down your legs. Then, you throw them directly at him. They land on his shoulder, and Hyuck turns to look at them, breathing deeply.

He’s rock hard in his pants now, and the sight turns you on as you bring both hands to your core. You begin to finger yourself while you rub tight circles on your clit, your toes curling at the sensation. 

“Hyuck,” you whimper, arching your back, building the pressure deep in the pit of your abdomen. 

“Princess-” he echoes, sounding even more desperate than you are.

You open your eyes, staring directly at Hyuck as you work yourself closer and closer-

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him. “Fuck, I’m almost there, almost there, baby-”

Hyuck releases a moan at the new pet name, and you can see him twitching. He’s doing his best to follow your instruction about not moving until you’ve cum, but you can see it’s getting harder and harder-

You let out a gasp, your orgasm slamming into you, and that’s when Hyuck finally pounces.

He wastes no time jumping onto the bed, burying his face between your legs while his hands grab at the flesh of your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. His mouth devours your core as your orgasm surges through you, and each lick and suck has you crying out, muscles tensing as Hyuck intensifies your high.

Your fingers thread in his hair, and he groans when you tug on him, unrelenting in his task of eating you through your orgasm. The ghost is eating you like a man who’s been starved of pussy for twenty years, and you suppose that’s accurate, so can you really hold the whole pantie-sniffing thing against him?

You’re not sure how he does it, but one orgasm that you’d given yourself quickly becomes a second orgasm that Hyuck has coaxed out of you by sucking on your clit, and you gasp loudly as it slams into you, riding the tail end of the first high. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming-” you whimper, thighs tensing around Hyuck’s head-

He simply pushes them apart, tongue diving into your hole to stroke your walls as they spasm around him. Hyuck groans, and the feeling of the vibration on your clit has you whimpering even louder, your grip tightening in his hair. 

“Hyuck-” you moan, pushing at his head, “I’m done, that was two-”

“I want three,” he tells you, taking his mouth from your pussy so he can suck marks along your inner thighs. “Can I have three? I’ve been a good ghostie for you.”

“You can have three when you bury your cock inside of me,” you tell him with a laugh, your body still buzzing in the after-effects of two orgasms that had happened in quick succession.

“I want three now, and four when I’m fucking you stupid, princess.” 

Well, this is a switch-up. 

He’d been so subby before, but one taste of your pussy has him trying to be more dominant? Fuck it, you don’t even mind, the words that have just come out of his mouth are too hot to even handle, so you let out a small, whimpered, “Okay.” 

“Okay, what?” he prompts, teeth grazing your inner thigh.

“Make me cum one more time with your mouth before you fuck me.” 

Hyuck doesn’t waste any time swiping his tongue along your slit again. He flicks at your clit and your thighs shake around his head, your nails dragging softly against his scalp. 

Your hips begin to wiggle, and Hyuck looks up at you, holding out his tongue and staying still so you can grind against him. You toss your head back, closing your eyes as you ride his tongue, using him for your own pleasure.

Hyuck groans, tilting forward just enough for his nose to bump your clit, and your muscles clench at the stimulus. You’re sensitive after two orgasms, but fuck, Hyuck feels so good.

“I just want you to fuck me,” you confess, relaxing back against the bed again while Hyuck takes the cue to begin to lick your pussy. “Make me cum so you can fuck me.”

Hyuck practically growls in response, his lips suctioning around your clit. Your legs quiver around his head, thighs squishing in on him- this time, instead of pushing you away and spreading you open, Hyuck allows you to practically crush his skull, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, body beginning to shake as he focuses all his attention on your clit.

There’s no pushing the ghost away, no crushing his head with your thighs- he’s locked in on his target, and all you can do is take what he’s giving you. 

Your moans fill the space, your back arching as he sucks your clit closer and closer to another high-

Then, out of the blue, one of his hands snakes up to your throat. Hyuck adjusts so he can squeeze your neck, his tongue flicking at your clit, his breath hot against your skin-

The pressure on your throat makes your entire body freeze for a moment, mind short-circuiting- and when you’re able to think again, all you can think about is the pulsing between your thighs as your orgasm crashes into you like a bullet train.

You whimper, the sound obstructed in part by the hand still gripping your throat. Your own hands fly to Hyuck’s wrist, encouraging him to apply even more pressure as you begin to thrash under his touch. Your hips are bucking toward his face, your pussy throbbing like it’s never throbbed before- and there’s not even anything filling you.

Your clit feels amazing, but your poor inner walls have been neglected, you’re aching for something to throb around, aching for an intrusion in your sinfully wet hole-

“Hyuck, please,” you gasp, letting out a shuddery breath when he pulls his mouth from your core, looking up at you. “I need-”

He squeezes your throat tighter, cutting off your words. Then he begins to kiss up your body, finally making it to your lips. He stops just a millimeter away, looking down at you as he releases your neck. It’s as if - even after all of this - he’s asking for permission.

You throw your arms around the back of his throat, tugging him the final distance to your mouth. His tongue clashes against your own, and you can taste your pussy there. Your core throbs, and Hyuck begins to grind down against you, rolling his hips expertly.

“Fuck,” you groan, breaking the kiss so you can shove your hands between your bodies, pushing at his pants. 

Hyuck, meanwhile, begins to mark up your neck in love bites, his fingers slipping under your back so he can unclasp your bra and tear it off.

You’re naked for him now, and you make quick work of his pants, briefs, and shirt. You’re caught in a whirlwind of need, kisses, and touches. Finally, he’s slotting himself between your thighs again. This time, when he grinds against you, his bare cock glides past your clit, and your legs shake, your fingers clawing at him.

“Do it,” you encourage him, gasping as he kisses your throat. One of your hands snakes into his hair, massaging his scalp. “Fuck me.” 

Hyuck reaches between your bodies, grabbing the base of his cock. He begins to tease his head along your pussy lips and you both groan at the feeling. “Princess-” he moans.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I’m ready, I can take it. You’ve been such a good ghostie being patient for me and making me cum- it’s your turn. Use me, baby, fill me up.” 

He’s panting against your neck, and he pulls back to look down at you. You can tell there’s hesitancy, but a need too, and when you grab the nape of his neck to draw his lips to yours, you feel his body immediately relax.

He presses the tip of his cock to your tight hole, and as he kisses you, he begins to push into your pussy.

You groan at the feeling of him. For an average-sized man, his cock is no laughing matter. He’s thick, stretching out your inner walls with each inch that sinks into you. 

Your thighs quake around his hips, and Hyuck licks at your tongue, moaning and kissing you until his front is flush with your own.

Only then does he break the kiss, rubbing his forehead against yours. “Princess-”

“I know, baby, it feels good for me too,” you assure him.

He grabs at the pillow next to your head, squeezing it roughly while letting out a shuddery breath.

Your pussy is still throbbing, trying to accommodate his large size, and when he buries his face against your throat, beginning to thrust, your entire body lights up with pleasurable energy.

“Fuck,” you groan, closing your eyes and stroking his shoulders, “Just like that.”

He picks up his pace, fucking you harder and harder until your bed begins to rock against the wall with each rough motion from his hips. 

Hyuck continues his barrage on your throat, licking your sweet spot while you mewl into his ear, holding him tight. One of his hands sneaks up between your bodies, grabbing at your breast. He pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it and panting against your skin.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, pussy throbbing around him, earning a deep groan.

“I don’t know if I can hold it,” he admits, pulling away to look down at you with beautiful chocolate eyes.

“Then don’t hold it,” you tell him. “Just don’t assume we’re done when you’re done.”

His gaze darkens, his plump lips parting in a silent question. Instead of saying anything else, you draw him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs tight around his hips. 

The hand that had been on your breast finds your free hand, fingers lacing as he presses you down into the mattress, fucking you even harder.

Each thrust has him hitting perfect spots, and the way he’s rolling your hips adds stimulus to your clit, which throbs with sensitivity.

The throaty moans escaping him are driving you mental, and the way his tongue strokes your own has you dizzy with lust.

Your other hand tangles in his pretty hair, tugging gently, dragging his mouth away from yours so you can begin to speckle his throat with kisses.

Hyuck lets out an absolutely sinful moan, and you realize he’s very sensitive in this area. It makes you want to make it even more, so you begin to suck small purple marks into his flesh while he shakes above you, bicep muscles flinching with effort.

“Keep fucking me,” you remind him. “Want you to cum.” 

Hyuck squeezes your hand, his pace picking up again.

“That’s it, ghost boy,” you coo, licking his throat. “Cum for your princess.”

He lets out a strangled gasp, thrusts faltering. A moment later you can feel his cum filling you up, and it makes you moan, your core throbbing with desperation. You need one more high, and you’re sure he’ll help you get it.

Hyuck rides out his orgasm, and then he collapses on top of you, his lips seeking out your own.

You allow him to kiss you for a while, cock still buried deep inside of you. Then, you begin to stroke his body again, making him shiver.

“Can you roll onto your back for me, ghost boy?” you prompt, looking up into his eyes.

Hyuck is quick to comply, and you can tell from the way his lips part, that he’s not expecting you to mount him as soon as he’s on his back. You put his cock back inside of you before any cum can drip out, and you sit there, staring down at him with your hands on his chest.

“Your recharge time is pretty good, isn’t it, ghost boy?” you tease, gently rolling your hips while he whines, grabbing your thighs from the sensitivity. “I bet I could just kiss you for a few minutes, and you’d be rock hard again in no time.”

“Princess-”

“You want to please me, don’t you, baby?” You trail a finger down his chest, teasing your nails across his abdomen and watching the muscles jump there under your touch.

“Yes,” he admits. 

“And I think we both deserve to cum one more time, don’t you?”

He nods again. 

You lean over him, pretending you’re about to kiss him, as his eyes flutter shut, lips parting in anticipation- you push his face to the side, attacking his neck instead.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, grabbing at your hips, squeezing you.

“Such a sensitive neck,” you muse, lips moving to his ear where you lick the shell, enjoying the way he shudders. “I wonder if I just…” you slip one hand up his chest, and Hyuck immediately arches his head, giving you full access to wrap your fingers around his throat. “That’s what I thought.”

Hyuck whimpers below you, hips pushing up, looking for friction-

“Did that make you hard, ghostie?” you laugh, sitting up and looking down at him. “Just a little choking and you’re already good to go again?”

This poor man has been repressed- you’re happy you’re the one who gets to free him. 

You begin to slowly move your hips, and Hyuck lets out a desperate moan, arching his head back even more. You tighten your grip on his throat and he responds by digging his fingers into your hips, urging you to ride him faster.

He looks so good like this.

Then, one of his hands moves, his thumb finding your clit. Your core throbs around him and you both moan loudly. Hyuck opens his eyes, looking up at you. 

“You’re being so good for me,” you tell him, rutting faster on his cock. “Make your princess cum.”

He rubs your clit harder, beginning to buck up to meet you while you ride him. 

Then, Hyuck pushes your hand from his neck, sitting up so he can latch his mouth onto your breast. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around your lower back and moving you on his cock. His teeth skim your nipple and you cry out, threading your hands in his hair and moaning in his ear.

He groans in response. This new angle has your clit rubbing against him, and you ride yourself to an intense completion, your head thrown back when your orgasm rushes over you.

As you cum, Hyuck flips you onto your back, taking over and thrusting into you with newfound energy. Your pussy throbs around him as he fucks you stupid, and when he buries his face against your throat, marking your skin, he cums too.

You can feel him shoot a second load deep inside of you, coating your walls to the point of nearly being too full, but part of you kind of loves it.

You hold him as he fucks you through your highs, listening to his panting and whining.

Finally, he stops, all but collapsing on top of you, lips feverish against your skin.

You pet his hair, trying to catch your breath. 

You’re cognizant of the fact that you don’t have all the time in the world for aftercare, and you’d rather talk with Hyuck now than address a shadow.

“Ghostie?” you whisper.

He releases a grunt. 

“We don’t have much time left,” you say sadly.

He pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. 

“Listen,” you cup his face, “being interested in a ghost the way I’m interested in you has never been something I saw for myself in this life,” you admit. “But, I am interested in you. I only have so many pictures of you that I can use to make you physical like this, but I’m going to find something to make this longer lasting, I promise. Until I do… I’m okay with you sniffing my panties, or watching me masturbate, or anything you want-”

Hyuck cracks a smile at your words, and you find yourself giggling as well.

“So you’re not going to exorcize me?” he jokes.

“Never ever,” you promise.

“You’re going to find a way for us to be together,” the ghost says softly.

“If anyone could find a way, it’s a witch like me,” you assure him, leaning up to press your lips against his.

He kisses you gently, and you get lost in it.

You’re not sure how long you stay lip-locked, but after a while, the feeling of his lips disappears. You open your eyes to find yourself alone, well- you can still see a shadow of him, but his warmth is gone, and the sensation of his kisses too.

You sigh. “I’ll find a way, ghostie,” you promise.

You’d like to think he responded, maybe with a word of encouragement, but there’s no way to know for sure.

Rolling onto your side, you imagine him behind you, close but unable to physically touch.

Leave to a witch to fall in love with a ghost.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! writing this style of Hyuck was way too satisfying

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🔮 preview.  Hyuck kisses you, grabbing your face as he does so. You can taste something unsaid on his tongue, but you do your best to ignore it as he pulls you from the sink, turning you around until your bum hits the island table. He lifts you up, setting you onto the old wood, then, he sinks to his knees. You’re wearing a dress, Hyuck loves dresses, they make it easy for him to have access to your pussy. He’s downright kitty obsessed these days, lifting up your skirt just enough to get under it. His lips make contact with your panty clad core and you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on your palms and letting your head fall backward.

cw/ tw. Dominant leaning switchy Hyuck, unprotected ghost sex, kitchen sex, sex on a table, pussy eating, fingering, pussy obsessed Hyuck, slight ghost angst, hair pulling, choking, praise, dirty talk, kitchen quickie, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of dark magic/bones, panties as a gag, finger sucking, sex while wearing a dress,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess (his)  baby

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 staring. Hyuck x afab!reader

bonus

The answer to your ghost conjuration problem had been shockingly simple. If burning a picture could draw Hyuck to your existence for as long as it was alight, you realized that burning one of his bones would last substantially longer.

Most crematoriums burn bones at 1000 degrees Celsius for two or three hours. At a much lower temperature, using a Bunsen burner set to 300 degrees, you could burn one small fragment for a lot longer. 

The worst part was going to the graveyard across town, with no one but Pluto as company, under the light of the moon in the dead of night to exhume Hyuck’s body. It’s been so long since his death that you weren’t worried about finding anything other than bones in the casket, and with a spell, you didn’t even have to put in the effort to dig- but something about uncovering Hyuck’s supposed ‘final resting place’ just hadn’t sat right with you.

You’d been aware, as you had driven home with a bag full of bones, that you were teetering on the side of a darker shade of magic. But for love, you decided not to care.

The first night you’d lit up a small bone, Hyuck had appeared right behind you, and the two of you had fucked on the floor right next to the altar. 

It’s been three or four months since you began to burn Hyuck’s bones, and your lust for each other hasn’t diminished.

He’s insatiable, and you are too.

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[misctf]

I’m a Latino twink and I just got accepted into Alpha Delta Alpha but my fraternity brothers have been acting weird around me and I’ve overheard them talking about their “lost brother” and how something is “an abomination and needs to be fixed” there’s a party tonight and they’ve lent me some clothes I don’t want to wear them in case it’s some kind of prank

“Are you all fuckin’ serious?” Garrett Thompson cursed angrily, “Bros, what the actual fuck were you thinkin’?

“Dude, we tried our best!” One of his bros replied.

“Yeah! It wasn’t fuckin’ easy, bro.”

Garrett groaned and rubbed his temples. How could this be happening? How could... He figured it must’ve started at last year’s rager. One day, he’s a party animal. Lady’s man. Campus stud. Fuck, he lived quite the life. Then suddenly he’s a ghost. Some kind of accident. Total tragedy. Trapped between this world and the next. Just wandering around campus. Unseen, unheard, and worst of all- unable to get off. Months passed and as he wandered the frat house...

“Yooo bruh...” Jamie saw him, his eyes red from smoking weed, “Garrett is that you? So good to see you man.”

After months of not being seen, Garrett couldn’t believe it. Of course the stoner bro would make first contact. And Jaime- all too willing to delve into the occult- quickly started doing his research. Telling the other frat bros about Garrett.

“Dudes, hear me out.” Jaime slurred one night, “I know how to bring Garrett back.”

Garrett watched their plan unfold. Jaime rambling about some kind of magic and finding the perfect vessel. They would need some kind of anchor for Garrett’s spirit. He watched as they rummaged through old bins in their frat house and found his old jersey and clothes. Apparently getting some poor dumbass to wear his clothes would be all he needed to rejoin the living. But then things stalled. No one wanted to join Alpha Delta Alpha after Garrett’s accident. And no one wanted to wear some dead guy’s clothes. So, Garrett started to lose hope. Until...

“No fuckin’ way.” Garrett had thought when he saw you join the frat, “Bros!” He tried to yell, “You can’t let some fairy join! Dudes!”

But it was too late. When you joined, the frat was clearly uncomfortable. You weren’t exactly their ideal applicant. Lean and gay, you were certainly a first for Alpha Delta Alpha. And if the plan failed... well they’d be stuck with you... But it wasn’t just that. Some felt uncomfortable with the true purpose of you joining. Jaime’s plan was seen as an abomination by a few of them. But you largely ignored both the weird feelings you got and strange conversations you’d overhear tidbits of. Besides, they were your brothers.

And so when they came to you with some old clothes and told you to wear them, you did just that. After some initial hesitation, you stripped and picked up a jock strap. It was dirty, and carried a stale smell of sweat and cum. You cringed as you slowly pulled it up your legs, securing it around your cock and bubble butt.

“Fuck yeah.” Garrett said, watching you from the corner of the room. He grinned as he floated over and placed a hand on your cock, his eyes widening. It was brief, but he could actually feel the cloth of the jockstrap.  

You turned to inspect the other clothes, shifting uncomfortably at the sensation from your dick. Your tan cock started to lighten in color, becoming white with a thick, pink head. And as your bubble butt lost its padding and became thick with muscle, your cock started to grow. Inch after inch, it eventually settled on 5 inches soft. But you barely noticed these initial changes as you pulled up the basketball shorts. As they traversed your legs, the melanin in your skin broke down, turning your legs white. But it wasn’t just your skin that was changing. A forest of wiry leg hairs burst forth into existence, covering your now increasingly muscular calves and thighs. And as the shorts settled on your waist, you let out a moan.

“Fuck, he’s really enjoin’ this.” Garrett mumbled, watching as your muscular ass made contact with the bed, “Of course he is. Becomin’ a real fuckin’ man.” He grinned and sat next to you. His ghostly hand on your leg, “It’s basically jerking off.” He reassured himself as he wrapped his hand around your new cock.

You let out a moan as your cock hardened and bulged in your pants. You were always a bottom, rarely caring much about your cock. But now? Fuckkkkkkk.... It felt so good. Your mouth was agape, drool pooling as pleasure overwhelmed your brain. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this since you bottomed last. And in your haze, you looked down to see a hand. A ghostly hand.

“What?” Your eyes widened when you saw Garrett, “Oh fuck!”

Garrett pulled his hand away, “Dude! Shit! You can see me?” He could see the terror in your eyes, that only seemed to grow when he noticed his legs, “Okay, bruh... just chill.”

“No, no, no!” You say, “I...I...!”

“Stop fuckin’ talking and put the shirt on, bro.” Garrett insists, “Dude...” He grinned as he floated over to you, “I know you want this.” His hand rubbed up against the bulge in your pants, “You and me bro. Together. Come on.”

You bite your lip and resist letting out another moan. What the fuck was happening to you? What were these clothes doing to you? Did you want this? It would be nice, right? Would it? What would happen if you put the shirt on? You barely notice that the skin of your torso is becoming whiter. And your muscles are starting to expand. As you consider the possibility of becoming Garrett completely, your body is already moving in that direction. Before you can think more on this, Garrett’s ghost seemingly starts to sink into your body. His eyes are wide at first, he grins as he realizes he's being anchored.

“Wait...” You watch as your arm moves against your will and grabs the jersey, “Ohhhhhhhh....” You moan as your other hand grips your cock and starts to stroke.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and gasp. You look more and more like an Americanized Latino jock. Far from the twink you had been. And you cry out as the jersey is lowered onto your upper body. And as it settles into place, you groan. Muscles expand rapidly, filling out the jersey nicely. Your pecs become shelves- far from the lean musculature that got you compliments from all those tops. Your abs pop into existence, one by one. And you watch as your arms become a beefy mass of ripped triceps and biceps. Bulging with just slight movements. The strength flowing through you is so unfamiliar. So different. So...

“Fuck yeah bruh.” The words leave your lips without any input from your brain. The voice deep and dumb, “Dude, it feels so fuckin’ good to be alive.” You feel as your calloused hands roam your muscles, squeezing your pecs, “Nighty, nighty.”

And you feel yourself fading. Your mind wrapped warmly in thoughts of beer, football, and videogames. God, you couldn't wait to see your team play again. To grind up against someone at the club. What a life you were going to have now. A simplistic life. Garrett’s life. Your life...

Garrett grins as you settle on one identity, “Fuck....” He moans, “If dying meant doing that again...” He chuckles, “Alright, let’s...”

He strokes his cock and finds his favorite porno. Feminine moans fill the room, and Garrett breaths hard. Stroking faster- desperate. Growing frustrated as his cock softens. Not deriving the same pleasure that he used to. His mind wandering to post-game locker room showers. And his teammates' muscular bodies. And slowly, Garrett stops stroking his dick. His eyes start to widen.

“SHIT!”

Now, as he stands around his frat bros, he can’t help but wonder how he could be gay. How could Garrett Thompson, back from the dead, only want a dick up his ass? Garrett shakes his head and sighs. He couldn’t be angry at them... fuck they were so sexy. His eyes roam and he takes in their exposed muscular arms, and cocky grins. He imagines what they might be packing down there. What it might feel like to wrap his lips around their dicks. And his cock starts to stir.

“You good, bruh?”

Garrett snaps back to reality, “Yeah, yeah...” He flips them off, “You’re lucky you’re all so cute, you fuckers.”

The other bros looked at one another, sly grins forming on their faces. After all, Garrett owed them for all the trouble they went through. Right?